


Devil's Backbone

by anthfan



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-18
Updated: 2015-06-28
Packaged: 2018-03-02 01:49:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 41,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2795345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anthfan/pseuds/anthfan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happens if Oliver and Felicity begin a physical relationship brought on by the catalyst of Sara's death, but acted like nothing had changed between them. One chapter per episode.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 3x02-"Sara"

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This one has been in the works for months and is a bit of a departure for me. There will be one chapter per episode beginning with 3x02, with a few exceptions. 
> 
> The basic premise is, what if Oliver and Felicity began a physical relationship brought on by the catalyst of Sara’s death, but acted like nothing had changed between them. 
> 
> The episodes occur as we’ve seen in canon. Nothing changes there. These chapters explore what happens after they’re over. 
> 
> Rated: M
> 
> NSFW (not that this stops you people, but I’ll still give the warning)
> 
> Special thanks to hopedreamlovepray for ensuring that I stuck by my drunken request to have her make sure I didn’t post the first part until I had three finished. 
> 
> Enjoy!! And please let me know what you think!

Chapter 1: 3x02-Sara

**  
  
**

It was the mud on her heels that tipped Felicity over the edge.

Mud from her friend’s grave. A grave Oliver had to dig on his own. And it wasn’t even a new one. It was the same plot the Lance’s had used all those years ago after the Gambit had gone down. The one that had been empty because there hadn’t been a body.

Except the girl who had defied death so many times couldn’t beat it again. The coffin was empty no more.

The headstone that had only served as a symbol now stood as a marker, and even though the dates were wrong, the result was the same. Sara Lance was dead.

Felicity had tried to get through to Oliver, tried to get him to talk, to let go, to feel his loss but he’d been stubborn and stoic and with her heart still bruised from their exchange at the hospital she’d let him be and told him she couldn’t wait with him to die. She wanted more. She needed more. And she wanted it with him but he couldn’t give that to her.

Silent tears tracked down her face the entire drive home. She’d just buried her friend, a woman she’d taken a bullet for, a member of not only their team but their family.

But her sadness quickly turned into anger when she’d gone to take off her shoes and saw the marks, the thick, dark mud caked on the spike of the heel and ground into the tread. They’d never be clean, they’d always carry the stain of that night.

A fury she’d never experienced before welled inside her quick and thick and in an instant she was stalking for the kitchen, throwing the shoes into the trash with such force the second one missed and she had to try again, a scream of frustration and pain tearing past her lips.

She was mad. At Sara for dying. At Oliver for thinking he couldn’t be with her. At Digg for leaving them even though she knew in her heart he was right and even though it was temporary. At whoever had put three arrows into Sara and sent her falling off a rooftop.

And she was mad at herself for caring so much. For once she wished she could wall it all off, pretend it didn’t affect her, channel her emotions into something other than the bottom of an ice cream container.

Always good, always optimistic, always the cheerleader.

She couldn’t do it just then.

There was a battle raging inside her. Something foreign and weighty that she didn’t like but didn’t know how to vanquish. She didn’t feel comfortable in her own skin, as if someone else inhabited her just then but instead of fighting it, instead of knocking it back she let it fill her and for once she submitted.

She felt light and reckless, letting the anger fuel her as she poured a glass of wine and drank it down in three long gulps. The second glass she carried with her, reaching behind her neck to undo her dress, knowing it too would be discarded, never to be worn again.

When a leather gloved hand settled over hers she froze, every cell switching from fury to fear and then back to fury again when she realized who it was.

He hadn’t touched her. Not since he’d kissed her. The last thing point of contact they’d had was her ponytail as she’d turned away, she’d felt her hair get caught in his fingers.

She become so accustomed to it. Touching him so casually, so easily over the past few months, to not be able to do that when she knew he’d needed it the most, when she’d been forced to turn to Roy for comfort instead of him had been heartbreaking, but she knew it wouldn’t have been welcome.

With a gasp she whirled, wine glass tipping from her hand and caught by his lightening fast reflexes before she could blink.

It wasn’t Oliver who stood before her though, it was the Arrow. Head to toe leather and a mask to hide behind. The quiver and bow were missing but he wore the rest like armor, protecting himself, keeping her at a distance. Everything cloaked.

Except his eyes.

That’s where she saw it all. Rage, hurt, confusion, pain, sadness, desire. It was there. Everything that was swirling inside her she saw mirrored within him. She was so full, so overwhelmed, her brain buzzing with everything that had happened it made it impossible to tramp it down and she knew it was the same for him.

 

Her mind was assaulted with so many images it left her dizzy; Sara’s frozen body wrapped in white, the way his lashes had fluttered shut before he’d kissed her, the spray of the dirt on the coffin, his nervous smile when he’d met her at the restaurant. One after another they tumbled around, so different, so important, each one a different path, some now blocked indefinitely.

He didn’t move, didn’t speak, didn’t even blink. But his chest rose and fell erratically and she saw the struggle in those blue eyes that were darker than she’d ever seen before.

She shifted forward, half a step, but close enough she could feel the heat radiating from him. In her bare feet, her eye line came to mid chest now, and she felt the first tremble roll down her spine. She’d never felt small next to him before, but right then, in that moment, she was overly aware of just how large a man he was.

The air between them sparked with energy, the atmosphere growing weighty as if it knew everything and nothing was about to change.

Slowly, she raised her eyes until she could meet his and when she did it was all over. The anger was there, but also the need. He was so angry he couldn’t allow himself to be what she needed, angry he couldn’t catch Sara’s killer, angry he’d had to wall off his heart. And she was angry too.

It was a bad idea. It was irresponsible, and reckless, and quite possibly the poorest decision of her life but something she couldn’t define erupted low in her belly, and spread through her veins like wildfire. She felt light headed, and dangerous, and as she stared up at him with her pulse pounding wildly she saw the moment he snapped.

His jaw tightened, air being drawn swiftly through his nose as his chest expanded and she knew if she dared break his gaze and look down his hands would be clenched in fists.

Despite everything they’d gone through, everything they’d said, he still wanted her. And she wanted him. That was something neither of them could deny.

All it took was one soft, tentative touch. Her hand rose, hovering just millimeters from his leather clad chest, knowing that as soon as she made contact it would be like stepping off a cliff.

His next breath was deeper, lungs expanding further and that was it. The hairsbreadth that had separated them had vanished.

The strangled gasp that emerged from her lips was muffled as he wrapped both arms around her and crushed her to him, her face tucking inside the hood to find the soft skin of his throat.

His mouth was everywhere; across her jaw, the shell of her ear, the hollows of her neck. It was desperate and frantic and rough. She dug her fingers into green leather, clutching his biceps as he hitched her higher to suck a spot on her neck that made her see stars.

The rasp of his stubble made her toes curl and every time she tried to fill her lungs he’d find another spot that made her breath catch.

Each touch, each grasp of fingers that were too tight was how they laid claim. _Mine_ , they said.

Branding the other’s souls for all eternity they crossed the line, the one that they’d tip-toed for so long. The one they’d always known would be the point of no return. And as his gloved hands pressed into her ribs she knew she’d never be able to go back even though she’d have to somehow move forward.

Because this changed nothing and everything and they both knew it.

With a gasp she was spun and the zipper along her back dragged down in one swift sweep. There was only an instant where she felt the coolness of the air and then it was replaced by his heat.

She could feel it all, the smoothness of the leather, the hardness of the buckles as they pressed into her. His hand splayed over her middle as he tugged the dress off her shoulder, mouth dropping to scrape the nape of her neck.

Her hands reached back, landing on his thigh quiver, scrabbling around the flechettes until she could feel nothing but solid muscle, taut and strained as the rest of her dress was tugged down until it pooled around her waist. One small step forward and it fell to the floor, her neck craning back to expose her throat as he continued his assault, teeth nipping and sucking, the hood somehow never falling away.

He wasted no time as he cupped her breasts over her bra, kneading almost painfully as she writhed against him, brain protesting the unfairness of having her back to him, but the constant flip of her stomach and the relentless swirl of desire that flowed straight to her center commanded her to shut up.

When he shoved down roughly, ripping the side seam of her underwear a protest escaped her lips and was soon forgotten when his hand moved inwards, tripping over her thigh to find her clit with no pretense or forewarning.

She keened. Head thrown back in a mixture of pleasure and agony that was so sharp it took her breath away. Somehow her questing found the closure to his pants and as his teeth sunk into her collarbone causing wetness to flood his nimble fingers she freed him.

There was only time for two quick, stilted strokes before he was forcing her to walk forward. Her hands slapped onto her kitchen counter as he bent her forward and for the first time he slowed, one hand running almost reverently from her neck to the base of her spine in a low, sensual track.

But it was short lived when her hips jerked back into his and he hauled her into him growling something that could have been her name but she wasn’t sure.

Then she could feel him, one foot moving between hers to widen her stance and she did so willingly. She wanted it just as badly as he did.

The ability to _feel_. Anything. Everything.

When she felt him at her entrance she cried out and he wrapped one leather clad arm around her waist to secure her to him, but there was a pause, a hesitation and rage filled her, because hell if he was going to come this far and leave her again.

She jerked her pelvis back in one swift motion, making the decision for him and there was nothing to be heard except their groans as he filled her for the first time.

It was like a dam had burst. He set a punishing pace that left her clutching pale cold granite and when he reached one hand down to press exactly where she needed him to she could only duck her head and ride it out as the wave of pleasure washed over her quick and hard. She felt his pace become erratic and then he grunted, head dropping to rest between her shoulder blades.

They were frozen, with her slumped across the counter, bra shoved up her chest as he bent over her, both trying to regain their breath.

She wasn’t sure who started crying first, and in the end it didn’t matter. Hot tears splashed over her back, rolling down the sides as he shook violently, still inside her. She didn’t even realize she was sobbing until she had to take a breath and it almost took her to her knees. He tightened his grip around her middle, pulling her closer as they grieved.

For Sara.

And for themselves.

When he pulled out of her she felt cold and she didn’t turn as she felt him do up his pants and pause.

She couldn’t bring herself to look at him. It was wrong. It had been a mistake.

But it had also been so right.

She didn’t have to be looking at him to know he had no idea what to do or say.

In the end she gathered herself up, pulled her bra down and pivoted, eyes taking far too long to track up to his face and still avoiding his eyes when they got there.

“Just go,” she said low, and heavy, but there was no bitterness. They were both in the right that night and both in the wrong.

He let out an exhale and she could hear the apology about to emerge, her hand shot out to press against his chest. “Go, Oliver.”

Her eyes slid shut and when the coldness enveloped her she looked up to see that she was alone.

And with bruises on her hips from where Oliver had held her too tight she walked into Queen Consolidated the next morning and told Ray Palmer she’d accept his offer.


	2. 3x03-Corto Maltese

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thanks for the awesome response to this new venture! In case you haven’t caught on, each chapter is basically smutty, smutty, smut, smut and a good heaping of SMANGST as one lovely reader dubbed it (Smut and angst). There is a method to my madness here. Promise. :) 
> 
> Enjoy my last offering before the holidays. Hope you like it, and please let me know what you think! 
> 
> NSFW!

3x03-Corto Maltese

The strangest thing about them having sex was that it didn’t seem to change anything at all.

When she’d walked into the lair the next night she hadn’t known what to expect. Roy had greeted her first and by the time she’d put her bag down and taken a seat Oliver had moved past her, grabbing his bow to head out for patrol.

But he’d met her eyes, and given her a nod which she’d returned, albeit slowly.

She decided she’d take her cues from him and when he’d decided to pretend like nothing had happened she gladly fell into step.

When she tracked Thea’s whereabouts to Corto Maltese and he’d been eager to go bring his sister home she’d felt relief, some space and time apart might have been just what they needed.

As it was she could still feel his hands on her every night when she lay awake in her bed, could still feel the burn of his beard against her skin, and remembered the way fireworks had exploded behind her eyes when she’d come. Her skin still bore the marks of his teeth, and she’d had to be careful how low her necklines were to hide the small bruises he’d left behind.

Her new job provided something of a distraction, but she found herself thinking of him more often than she cared to admit. The night they’d returned she’d tracked the flight and didn’t leave the lair until Digg texted her to say they were on the way back. Then she’d scrambled to gather her things, suddenly feeling on edge, and anxious like there was an itch beneath her skin she couldn’t scratch.

She hadn’t seen him in three days. A week since that night and instead of being able to move past it and forget like she stupidly thought she might be able to do it was all she could think about.

She left the lights off when she got in, setting her bag on the sofa before she kicked her heels towards the rack next to the door, fully intending to take them to her bedroom later. As she padded into the kitchen she froze when she saw the glass of red waiting for her.

Senses already on alert her head swiveled to look to the shadows but she couldn’t see him.

That didn’t mean he wasn’t there.

Not knowing why he’d come to her or for what she continued on her original track and picked up the glass with a hand that only trembled slightly. But she could only manage one small sip before she had to put it down.

Wiping wet palms along her thighs she made her way back out into the living room, drawing to a halt when he stood before her, but this time in jeans and a brown leather jacket.

The breath hitched in her chest because she hadn’t realized how much she missed him and also because just the sight of him, half in shadow, once again in her apartment made her blood thrum wildly through her veins.

Even in the low light she could see the intensity in his eyes and somehow her feet were bringing her closer to him.

When only inches separated them she lifted her chin and locked her gaze with his, almost challenging in how she didn’t blink or look away even though all she could hear was the sound of her pulse.

They reached for each other at the same time. She went to shove his jacket off his shoulders as one of his hands spanned her waist, the other finding the hem of her skirt as he tugged her into his chest and hitched her thigh over his hip.

Her moves were hurried but not frantic. The desperation of that first time was past, this was something more, somehow even more important. It was a decision now, something they’d both gone into with eyes wide open. One time could be written off as a mistake, forgotten and buried, but twice...twice was purposeful.

As soon as his jacket was on the floor she set to work on his shirt buttons, his hot breath in her ear as he laved her neck was distracting, as was the way he’d somehow rid her of her skirt without her knowledge.

When her bare palms touched his chest for the first time without an injury being involved they both hissed, tiny stars bursting behind her eyelids as he sunk his teeth into her collarbone harder than he had intended. But then his tongue was soothing the sting away and her fingers were tripping over hard ridges of muscle and scars she’d long ago memorized and the temporary pain faded away to nothing.

She’d forgotten the cuffs and the shirt became trapped at the elbows. There was an almost primal flare deep within his irises as the muted light from the street caught his face and when she heard the telltale sound of fabric being torn it made her knees weak.

The shirt was gone in a blink and she wasn’t wholly present when her top and bra disappeared, the rough feel of the straps being dragged over her wrists being the only part she’d noticed.

His lips had found the juncture of her neck and shoulder as she clung to him, nails digging into his back so sharp and deep he hissed in response before shifting her higher.

She wasn’t sure when her back met the wall, just that the framed picture behind her pressed harshly into her shoulder blades for a second before it fell to the ground with a thud.

They were in the hallway, her bedroom door only ten feet away but it was too far, too much and they came to a silent agreement that since he was already between her thighs with her legs wrapped around his hips, making it to a bed wasn’t necessary.

Knowing he’d never let her fall she let her hands fall down his chest, taking the time to drag her nails over his nipples and reveling in the growl it released from deep within him. He shifted her higher for that to latch his hot mouth to her breast and for a long long moment she forgot everything but the feel of his teeth and tongue.

He must have taken care of his pants on his own because when he thrust forward it was unexpected but exactly what she needed. He’d positioned her perfectly, sliding through her wet heat in one easy move that left her gasping, head thrown back as he filled her.

Harsh, panting breaths crossed her ear as he paused fully seated inside her. Then he moved.

It was sinful the way he used his hips. His hands clasped her waist and directed her the way he wanted, all she could do was hold on as he thrust into her with a lift at the end that hit a spot she never knew existed.

Her mouth fell open as the tight coil low in her belly began to spread, so quick and sharp it stole her breath.

It was three growled words in what later she thought could have been Russian that tipped her over the edge. The resonance of his voice, the inflection, and the meaning even though she didn’t understand touched her in a place that was deep and hidden.

His head dropped back to her breast sucking hard on her nipple as his pelvis drove into hers and that was it, her teeth dug into the hard ridge of his shoulder as she came.

When her head cleared he was pressed fully against her, trapping her on the wall. Her lungs could only take shallow breaths due to his weight but she didn’t mind. It was warm and comforting and everything she wanted.

And then reality hit.

They weren’t together.

This changed nothing.

He seemed to have the same thought and even though it should have been awkward as he pulled out of her and slowly lowered her to the floor, having to bend down to pull up his pants, it wasn’t. Instead it felt sad.

She didn’t say a word, just gathered her clothes as he slipped on his jacket, bare chested, ripped shirt clutched in his hands.

The first tear didn’t fall until she was in her room and heard the front door click shut.

**  
  
**


	3. 3x04-The Magician

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Final fic post for 2014. Hope you enjoy this third installment set after 3x04. Please let me know what you think!

If Felicity thought escaping to Central City would help distract her or make her complicated relationship with Oliver more clear she was wrong. If anything all it did was confirm that she was completely wrapped up in him with no way to know where he ended and she began.

The kiss she’d shared with Barry had been sweet, and chaste, and most definitely a goodbye. And as the train took her closer and closer to Starling she tried her best to sort through where she and Oliver were. Or more accurately where they weren’t.

Her head told her it needed to stop. But everything else inside her didn’t know how.

Still distracted she hadn’t expected to discover Nyssa in the foundry and finding out Malcolm Merlyn was alive had blindsided her.

As she passed Nyssa on the stairs she’d started to tell her how sorry she was for the loss of Sara but something in her eyes had stopped her. The words died in her throat and she shrank to the side, turning to stare as the hardened assassin continued up the stairs without a word.

The tension in the space was obvious as she approached the group but she only had eyes for Oliver. Still in his suit he turned hungry, grateful eyes on her when he hear her voice, temporarily leaving her mute. For a second she saw it all. _‘I missed you.’, ‘Don’t leave me again’, ‘I need you’_

She’d swallowed hard and then listened with rapt attention as they’d filled her in. There was another long moment where an entire world was exchanged between the two of them when she’d heard about Merlyn’s existence.

Even though she’d been away and had gone straight from the train station to the foundry she was the last one to leave. Oliver had understandably wanted to be with his sister and he’d left with barely a backwards glance.

When she did return home it was well past midnight and her suitcase sounded overly loud as she rolled it over the threshold.

Later she’d blame her tiredness, and distraction of the past few weeks on why she didn’t notice he was in her room, somehow not sensing his presence until after she’d stripped off her dress and tossed it in the general direction of her closet.

In a bra and underwear she’d turned to see him silhouetted in the light of the window, waves of anger and frustration pulsing off him so strong she felt like she should take a step back, everything he’d been keeping bottled up about Sara’s death and Merlyn’s return threatening to boil over.

But instead she moved closer, noticing his jacket had been laid across the chair in the corner and she wondered how long he’d been there waiting and the thought that he hadn’t gone to his sister and instead had come here to wait for her made her stomach flip.

Seeing him in her bedroom sent bolts of desire and longing straight to her core. This was somehow more. More intimate. More real. And she knew he was aware of it. He’d chosen to wait for her there instead of in the living room again.

Her time in Central City had only made her more confused. Barry’s kiss had been nice, but had stirred only the barest of feelings within her. They both knew it was more goodbye than anything, however, at least he’d stepped up, he’d taken the risk. Oliver refused to live in any world that wasn’t the shadows.

And as she studied him now, backlit by the moon she knew he wasn’t ready to step into the light.

But she couldn’t deny him. Not now.

The daytime was different. They could pretend nothing had happened. There was work and the city and everything that came with being the Arrow.

These witching hours however...they changed everything.

With her heart in her throat she approached, not stopping until her bare feet were between his, toes curling into the carpet as she pressed upwards, still not touching.

He moved first, hands flashing out to catch her ribs and she sucked in a sharp breath when he made contact with her skin, causing both of them to pause.

The light caught his eyes in small bursts and when it did she could see the intensity, the fervor he hid so well during the day.

Slowly she lifted herself up, letting him balance her until she was as high as she could go. Her hand raised, fingertips just brushing the rough stubble of his jaw and when she leaned up and in to press her lips against his he turned his head, causing her mouth to land on his cheek instead.

Fury filled her. Pure white hot rage and in an instant she’d grabbed his biceps and wrenched her head back before dipping in again, trying to press her lips against his when he moved at the last second.

“Even Barry kissed me properly,” she growled, low and visceral as she tried to pull away, enraged that he wouldn’t meet her lips.

It had occurred to her on the train ride home as she sat contemplating Barry’s kiss that Oliver hadn’t actually kissed her since that moment in the hallway of the hospital where it had all gone to hell.

In the next instant all she knew was Oliver. He consumed her. Mouth sealing to hers so intensely everything behind her eyes went a brilliant white. His tongue swept forward and she gave access without thought.

The kiss in the hospital hallway had been a goodbye as well, but this...this was a taste, a promise, a tease of how it could be and she fell long and hard down the rabbit hole he opened for her.

As his tongue stroked along hers all she knew was the high buzz in her ears, distant and heady. Then she felt his hands on her breasts, her bra somehow gone as both thumbs cut over her nipples in a planned, simultaneous attack that left her gasping as her hips thrust forward seeking any contact they could find.

The familiar feel of her sheets against her back made her draw back, rip her mouth from his and they both stilled, breaths mingling as he froze above her, one knee by her left hip, the other foot still on the floor.

She nodded once and he fully joined her on the bed, pressing his weight into the cradle of her hips and it was glorious.

Small nips, and gentle sucks of teeth and lips. She was lost, totally and completely. The lack of real kissing in their previous encounters was erased as he quite effectively plundered her mouth.

When his tongue curled around hers and drew it into the warm recess of his mouth she groaned loud and low, pressing up as far as she could onto her shoulder blades within the cage of his arms.

That caused their lower bodies to press together and they both moaned at the contact. One of his hands slipped beneath her hips, keeping them elevated as he slowly pushed between her thighs, the only barrier between them her thin panties and his boxer briefs and she had no knowledge of when he’d lost his clothes.

Then that barrier was gone and she sighed as it was flesh on flesh. The warmth of skin beneath her hand making her pull him in closer.

Her hips fell open as he rocked against her a whimper emerging as she felt the barest of pressure right where she needed it.

She knew she was wet and ready for him. He drew something from her she’d never experienced before, something so hidden she didn’t even know it existed. But as his eyes held her, never looking away she knew he felt it too and it made her so angry he was keeping them apart.

Her thighs clamped down on his hips and with one quick move she surprised both of them as she pushed up and to the side. He took her cue and let her flip them and when he was the one looking up at her a flare of want swirled through her.

She ran her hands down his arms until she found his wrists and lifted them up over his head, leaning down and giving him a challenging look. One hand stayed on his wrists while the other dragged down his chest until she found his cock. Her hips rose as she stroked him, slowly and deliberately, drawing it out while she watched his eyes grow even darker.

They both knew she wasn’t keeping him pinned, but he didn’t try and move out of her hold even when she widened her legs and lowered herself down, letting him glide between her slick lips. Dual groans emerged and at the top of each pass she gasped, grinding down to increase the pressure on her clit. His breathing grew shallow and the twitching of his fingers let her know he wasn’t going to wait much longer.

On the next pass she changed the angle at the last second and he slid in, so much deeper than he’d ever been before. Breath seized in her chest and she could only blink as his arms came down to grasp her hips, her hands barely managing to balance on his shoulders as he began to piston himself into her.

It was perfect. The angle, the depth. Each time he pushed up her clit rubbed perfectly over his pelvic bone, the pressure on the inside and the outside more intense than she’d ever experienced before.

Her toes grew numb and then her fingers and hands, as all the blood in her body began to concentrate in one place.

All she could do was hang on and make high, breathy sounds as he did things to her she didn’t think were possible. Then it all exploded. White sparks flashed behind her eyes as she tightened around him, pleasure and pain mixing so exquisitely she couldn’t breathe or think. She felt suspended, as if time had stopped.

His hips jerked erratically and then she collapsed forward, face pressed into his chest as they both just tried to get control of their breathing.

One minute turned into two and then five.

With the steady thump of his heart under her ear and the past few days catching up with her she didn’t notice when he shifted her to the side, or pulled the blanket up.

All she remembered the next day when she woke up alone was that she’d fallen asleep with his hand in hers.

**  
  
**


	4. 3x05-The Secret Origins of Felicity Smoak

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So glad you're sticking with me and trusting that I'm actually going somewhere with this somewhat crazy storyline. I think this chapter shows another step in making the dysfunction, function. 
> 
> Takes place after 3x05-The Secret Origins of Felicity Smoak. I realize I may be stretching (or rather condensing) the timeline a bit to have Oliver already moved in with Thea by the end of the ep but I hope you can kindly spot me a day or two. 
> 
> Enjoy, and please let me know what you think!

More than anything else that had happened in the past twenty four hours, Oliver’s words to her that night had left her shaken and off balance.

_“You know how I feel about her.”_

__

He’d basically told her he loved her. Again. But she knew that despite that and despite what kept happening between them he wasn’t willing to change anything.

She’d left him in the foundry while she’d gone back to her place to check on her mother, who was understandably still shaken from their encounter with Cooper. That had been something she hadn’t had time to process either. The man she had once loved returning from the dead. The man she’d carried so much guilt over twisted into someone she didn’t even recognize.

As she sat in her darkened apartment she was tempted to take two of the pills her mother had swallowed down with a vodka and orange juice claiming it was the only thing that could help settle her nerves. Donna was now passed out peacefully in the guest room, while Felicity was stuck battling the seemingly never ending onslaught of memories.

The fear from earlier finally crept in. She’d pushed it aside, ignored it while she’d done what she had to do because she hadn’t had a choice, but it was back and before she could actually consider what she was doing and how stupid it probably was she was in her car heading for the loft Oliver now shared with Thea.

He opened the door on her third knock, looking down at her in surprise as he stood framed in the doorway.

She didn’t say a word as she swallowed past the lump in her throat and blinked through the tears that had threatened to fall the entire drive over as she stepped forward and did what she’d wanted to do ever since he’d arrived in that warehouse.

This hadn’t been allowed after she’d knocked Cooper out and untied her mother. This hadn’t been allowed after they’d returned to the foundry. But here, in this...world they’d created where words didn’t exist because they just got in the way she could lay her head on his chest, and wrap her arms around his middle and finally seek the comfort she needed from him.

She felt him tense beneath her but it was only for a moment and then he was holding her, a little too tightly to the point where she couldn’t take a deep breath but she didn’t mind.

The dark grey of his henley was a fuzzy blur in front of her, glasses pressing sharply above her nose but it was what she needed, and she thought maybe he did too.

It seemed like they kept finding themselves in the same situation. Eyes meeting across an empty space while a mad man held her captive, her life quite literally in their hands. She was getting better about saving herself, although she’d prefer if it never happened in the first place. Oliver’s expression never changed though. No matter the circumstances he always lost control for just a second and she’d be able to see the stark fear and what she now knew was love.

**  
  
**

And yet despite every close call, despite the very real reality that their lives were most likely shorter than others he still couldn’t allow himself a chance. Couldn’t allow them a chance.

But she’d come to him this time. Her complicity in this wasn’t lost. All her good reasons and good sense seemed to vanish when it came to whatever this undefinable arrangement was that they found themselves in.

Sex hadn’t been her primary focus when she’d left her apartment that night. It was more than that. She just needed Oliver. The Oliver that had always been there for her before. But as her fear abated and her breathing settled she began to recognize the warmth that rolled off of him and the feel of his solid strength under her hands.

His palms had been running in a slow, soothing pattern up and down her back, sometimes ghosting over her hair, but nothing that wasn’t meant to be comforting. Until suddenly it wasn’t.

Calloused fingers slipped along the nape of her neck drawing tingles of electricity to the surface of her skin before he traced up to her ear and then down the edge of her jaw. When she pulled back slightly to look up at him she saw the telltale darkening of his eyes and felt the traitorous double beat of her heart.

It was those same fingers ever so gently brushing along her chin, tilting her head up further to run him thumb just under her lower lip as he stared at her with such intensity that had her gasping in recognition. And when his head dipped down to drop small, barely there kisses along the same path she knew why. Cooper had held her face there repeatedly, squeezing so hard she’d winced and wondered if it would leave a bruise. But she felt no pain as her eyes fell shut and her head fell back to allow him better access.

The surge of want that streaked through her took her by surprise. Their eyes locked, the only honest conversation they’d been able to have for weeks now occurring in the silence of the night and she saw her own need reflected back at her.

Her hand fisted in his shirt as she pulled him towards her, mouths crashing together as an almost relieved whimper escaped her lips.

She could feel the tension in his shoulders and along his arms as she held on to him, something different in the way he latched her to him, a desperate tinge that made him stronger and less careful than usual.

He pressed more kisses along her jaw before finding the hollow of her throat and she shivered from the intensity of his words, “Thought I was going to lose you,”

It was choked and quiet, punctuated with sharp, hot exhales of air that got trapped beneath her hair and for a second they stilled as he leaned his weight into her. She widened her stance to brace against him as she ran one slow hand over his head, “No,” she assured him, and after one more violent explosion from his lungs he was pulling upright, her head tilting up to meet him once again as his tongue swept through her lips.

For a few minutes he overwhelmed her. His hands were sliding demandingly under her shirt, hauling her so close to him she could feel the hard planes of his chest and the tight muscles of his thighs pressed to her.

When she found herself without her shirt still standing in the foyer of Thea Queen’s loft she wrenched backwards with a gasp and placed both hands on him to physically give them space.

The dark floor to ceiling windows with the blinking city lights rose behind him and she dragged one shaking hand across her head as they stared at each other, chests heaving.

“Thea--”

“Verdant,” he answered in a short clipped tone, hands already reaching for her. She gulped once and dropped her gaze to the floor before looking up at him through her lashes. She’d come to him. It was her turn to control how it went.

He stilled, hands still outstretched and with her skin prickling and flushed she took the one closest to her and began to tow him towards the stairs.

This felt different. Somehow with Oliver being the one to come to her all those times she’d been able to tell herself it was his idea, his plan, and while yes she’d gone along with it quite willingly it had always been because he’d come to her. This time though she’d been the one to seek him out. She was as much a part of this as he was.

They were halfway up the steps when she felt his fingers tangle with hers and his free hand settle low on her hip, thumb tracing a line where her skirt ended and the sensitive flesh of her back began. She faltered, feeling him tighten his grip and she made the mistake of turning to look at him over her shoulder.

The breath froze in her lungs and she fully pivoted to face him, eye level since she was one riser up. His hands didn’t lose contact as she turned, his thumb now running along the bottom of her ribs in what seemed like an innocuous rhythm but was in actuality stoking a fire within her.

A wave of desire, deep and primal washed through her veins and her eyes narrowed. Oliver’s chin tilted up in recognition but she moved before he could.

Her palm came forward to cup his all too obvious erection through the jeans he wore and the swift curse that escaped his lips made her mouth curl upwards in a slight smirk. She applied light pressure, fingers tracing his length through the material as he breathed in short strained hisses.

When he pushed his hips toward her, grinding into her touch she knew she’d won this round. She stroked him slowly, alternating between squeezing and light teasing motions that had him rocking into her until his hand flashed up and captured her wrist.

His pupils were blown wide and she could see the last of his control beginning to slip. Carefully and deliberately she leaned in until only their lips met and kissed him slowly, taking her time to trace his full lips with her tongue before drawing the bottom one between her teeth and biting down just hard enough to make him grasp her hips.

All the blood in her body was rushing straight for her center and she couldn’t keep from pushing into him as his thumbs pressed inside her hipbones, making her twitch and jerk beneath his hold, both of them groaning when she tugged on the pocket of his jeans and his hard cock was right where it needed to be.

Her fingers were undoing his belt as his were pulling the straps of her bra down her arms. They both released long enough to step out of pants and shoes and skirts until he banded one bare arm around her middle and hitched her high against his chest. Her legs wrapped his waist on instinct as he breathed into her, tongue gliding along hers in a delicious twist that made her clutch his shoulders and surge against him.

She felt the powerful muscles in his back and legs working as he climbed the stairs with her still wrapped around him when she reared back, “No. Here.” she commanded and he halted, confusion showing through the lust in his gaze.

Her thighs released and she slid down, his stiff cock getting caught between them until she reached down and grasped him as her feet made contact with the cool wood of the stair. One hand on his abs pushed insistently until he fell back, reaching to catch the step behind his hips as he lowered himself to sit.

All the moisture left her mouth as she stared down at him, reclined against the stairs as the shadows from the low lights seemed to only accentuate every hard ridge and plane of his chest and abdomen.

He was open and waiting for her to make the next move, and when his hand trailed purposely over his middle to stroke his erection while never dropping his eyes from hers she felt a flood of wetness coat her center.

Her moves were deliberate and controlled even though she felt like she was shaking so hard she’d fly apart any second. She moved up one step and brought her right leg up and across until his legs were stretched out between hers and she hovered above.

Neither of them blinked as she kneeled first on one side and then the other, their hips only inches apart as her hands trailed a slow path from his shoulders down until she could take his cock from him, thumb swirling over the tip, spreading the slippery leak of fluid around and down as his head dropped back with a groan.

She jumped when she felt his touch at her knee and then up the sides of her thighs. It made her want to move down the stairs and wrap her lips around him, discover what he tasted like.

His head snapped up when he felt her shift, hands grasping her upper arms as she slid down between his legs. She didn’t look up as she held him at the base with one hand and lightly gripped his upper thigh with the other.

A low, animalistic groan rumbled from his chest on her first lick and a surge of pride filled her. She engulfed him in one take, knowing she’d surprised him when his hips surged upwards erratically causing her to pull back quickly before he hit the back of her throat.

His hands hovered around her head wanting to hold on but not wanting to force her. As she let her tongue encircle the top before taking him in as far as she could she reached up and guided one hand to her ponytail, letting him know it was okay to touch her.

He latched on strongly, but not painfully as she bobbed up and down, letting her cheeks hollow as she sucked. He gave the gentlest of pressure to let her know he needed her to go deeper or slower and she responded to his cues. She became lost in the act, time meaning nothing. The only thing she was aware of was his low groans, and pained hisses as she brought him pleasure. When his quads tightened under her palm he tugged insistently until she pulled off of him with a pop, jaw slightly numb, lips and chin wet to see him with each corded muscle of his neck raised and his fist clenched as he fought for control.

Taking pity on him she rose up to crawl over his lap and gave no warning before she plunged downwards. His head surged up, eyes wild and she almost expected him to come right then. But his teeth clanked shut and a look of intense concentration crossed his face as his hands grasped her waist, somehow pulling her further down him.

Her mouth dropped open as her legs widened and she sank into him until he was so deep she thought he was hitting places inside her he shouldn’t be able to reach.

For a long minute neither of them moved, until she squeezed her interior muscles and then he broke.

One hand reached back to hold the stair, the other secured her to him as he began to drive his hips upwards, pistoning into her at a pace that she couldn’t match. Instead she leaned forward to wrap her arms around his neck and pushed her weight into her heels, giving counter pressure to his unforgiving rhythm.

Sweat slipped down her back as a low heat crawled up her spine, spreading to her chest and then up her jaw leaving her frozen as nothing but intense pleasure whited out her senses. He dropped his head and took a long draw from her nipple, teeth clamping down on the pebbled tip, knocking her hard over the edge.

His name tore from her throat as she came, covering his grunts as he spilled into her.

When she blinked again all she could see was her tangled hair in her face and all she could feel were his fingers trailing lightly up and down her back.

He was silent as he turned her in his lap, arms slipping under her as he rose to carry her up the stairs.

But when they reached the top she shook herself out of her fog and pushed to be set down.

“Stay,” he muttered, low and hoarse and she almost gave in but she knew she couldn’t. Staying would mean something and she didn’t trust that anything had actually changed between them.

He blew out a long breath without her even having to answer and carefully walked her across the hall, pushing open a door to reveal a bathroom.

The door was shut behind her before she could say a word and she started the shower on autopilot, mind somehow blank as she robotically washed her hair under the too hot spray. When she stepped out her clothes were folded carefully on the edge of the sink and she put them back on without another thought.

He was waiting across from the bathroom when she emerged, redressed himself, arms crossed over his chest and her eyes flicked immediately to the stairs but there was no sign of what they’d done.

Her heart flipped in her chest when he pushed off the wall and advanced on her, eyes half shuttered and almost unreadable. But when one hand came up to gently cup her face she sighed and turned into his touch.

Her hand covered his, squeezing once to reassure him she was okay before she stepped back and made her way down the steps with her chin up and without looking back.

**  
  
  
  
**


	5. 3x06-Guilty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N:New part is up! Set after 3x06-'Guilty'. Originally I was planning on skipping this episode as there didn't seem to be much there for inspiration, but when I stepped back and looked at it again I found a way to use what happens in the episode for my story that I think works really well and is needed. 
> 
> This one is a bit different than previous parts, but I hope once you read it you'll understand why. 
> 
> Enjoy and let me know what you think!!

Chapter 5-3x06-Guilty

**  
  
**

Felicity certainly wasn’t expecting to see Oliver that night after she left the foundry. The past few days had been difficult on all of them, but she’d seen the growing strain around his eyes, the way his fingers rubbed together when he didn’t think anyone was looking as he yearned for the simple, mindless feel of a bow in his hand and a target in his sight. Believing Roy was Sara’s killer may have been harder than not knowing at all.

The pressure had been building all week, and when the fine hairs in the back of her neck stood up and she turned from her spot on her couch to see him silhouetted by the light above the sink from her kitchen her heart sank.

He’d obviously gone on patrol alone and without telling anyone. Much like that first night he'd come to her he was in the suit but this time the quiver was still strapped to his chest and the bow was clenched tight in his fist.

Whatever was going on in his head wasn’t good and she slid up on her knees to fully face him, letting her tablet slip out of her hands to go dark on the couch next to her. She’d thought after the week before when she’d gone to him for the first time something might change but then everything had started to go wrong with Roy and he’d looked to her like she had all the answers. When she’d had to tell him the evidence pointed to Roy she felt like she was breaking both their hearts.

And now they were back to where they had been, no closer to catching Sara’s killer, but obviously it was hitting Oliver hard. Him showing up at her place wearing his full suit worried her and she felt her breaths shorten and her heart rate speed up as she tried to see his eyes to get a read on him.

But if there was anything the Arrow knew well it was how to use the shadows to his advantage. She knew he could see her fully, but his shoulders and the hood blocked any light from hitting his face.

Moving carefully she pushed off the back of the couch and made her way around until she stood just in front of him. He hadn’t so much as twitched a muscle, bow still held tightly in his grasp, tension pouring off of him.

When his free hand flashed out to grip her waist and tug her into him she could only gasp in surprise, hands bracing on his chest as he all but attacked her mouth. The kiss was hard and desperate, pushing her lips into her teeth and stealing her breath until she was fighting against him to let her go.

She tore her head away, breath ragged, furious words about to fly off her tongue when she whipped her neck back and finally caught sight of him. He looked empty, hollow, worse than he had the night they’d buried Sara and as quick as her anger had taken hold of her it disappeared.

He was lost and he needed her to find him. Whether he knew it or not, he’d come to her so she could save him.

A decision was made in an instant and before she could second guess or fully think on what she was doing she instead worked off of instinct. Her hand fell over the one that held the bow and tugged once and then twice before his grip slackened. Taking it from him carefully she turned to lay it along the back of her couch before she looked back at him, fist still held at his side as if the weapon had remained in his hand.

She swallowed hard before beginning to work the buckle of the quiver strap. It let go suddenly and she had to quickly reach behind him to catch the quiver before it could spill arrows over the floor. He didn’t even flinch as she jostled him, eyes still set on some distant vantage only he could see.

After she’d let the quiver rest against the table leg she ran her eyes up and down his form, unsure of what to do next. She knew he needed to shed the suit, shed the armor he’d plated himself in, but she didn’t want to push him too far. But as she stepped in closer and took in the hard set of his jaw she wondered if that wasn’t exactly what he needed. To let go. To give in. To hand himself over to her, if even for a few hours because he trusted her more with his soul just then than himself.

Just like that first night she was suddenly reminded of how large a man he was. Her bare feet felt incredibly small as she looked down and saw them bracketed between his black boots. From behind him she was completely concealed by the breadth of him, his chest and shoulders more than capable of blocking all of her slim frame.

When his chin dipped it made her gasp. The motion was almost robotic in nature and gave away far more than she knew he thought it had.

The look in his eyes made her freeze and she thought maybe in that moment she was seeing all of him, all the parts he kept hidden, all the parts he let show, and she was able to see right inside him. The weight of that made her hands shake and her mouth go dry and if she hadn’t known before she knew then she’d do anything for this man.

Her fingers wrapped around his wrist and lifted, undoing the closure that kept the gauntlet holding his flechettes in place. Placing those near the quiver she blew out one long breath before dropping to her knees.

She tried not to think about what she looked like just then, fingers nimbly working the straps to his thigh quiver, but her brain had other plans and immediately took her back to the week before when she’d been between his legs for a decidedly different reason.

If Oliver had the same thought he didn’t show it. He didn’t so much as flinch as she maneuvered the secondary quiver off of him and stayed at his feet to slide the knife from his boot and begin to untie the laces.

She had to tap his calf twice to get him to lift his foot and when he did she shook her head lightly, because of course his preternatural talents included perfect balance.

Her motions were perfunctory and utilitarian, only doing what was necessary. Her first priority was to strip him quite literally of the identity he was trying so hard to let consume him. She had to believe there was some hope left. He wouldn’t have come to her if there wasn’t.

Once his boots were off and set to the side she wiped her palms on her thighs and stood slowly, trying to catch his gaze but his jaw was stubbornly raised, eyes still mostly hidden. Something told her he wasn’t ready for the hood to be lowered yet so instead she let one hand run comfortingly down his arm to catch at the bottom of the jacket, moving it slightly out of the way so she could reach the waistband of his pants.

A flush crept up her chest and jaw, until she had to lick her lips and reach up to adjust her glasses. It was ridiculous that after everything they’d been through, after everything they’d done the simple act of undressing him was leaving her flustered.

Then she remembered that haunted look in his eyes and her apprehension fled. She undid the snap and zipper with two deft moves, once again kneeling as she peeled the tight fitting leather from his muscular thighs. He stepped out of the pants without her having to direct him and she took that as a good sign, only looking down once to take in the sight of him when she rose and turned to drape them over the back of her couch.

She was already moving the zipper of the jacket downwards, unable to resist sliding one hand in to rest her palm over his heart, finally receiving a reaction from him as his chest rose with a great inhale that made her curl her fingers into his warm flesh.

His name slipped past her lips before she could catch herself and for a moment the only thing that existed was the thrum of his pulse.

“You’re safe,” she murmured as she slowly took hold of the hood and lifted it up and back, letting her hands rest along his shoulders as the fabric settled behind his head. She didn’t know what she expected, if anything at all, but he remained silent and stoic and after a beat, his eyes still mostly hidden by the mask, she pushed the jacket off his shoulders.

When she went to pull the cuff off his wrist she realized she’d forgotten about his gloves and a flustered, frantic feeling filled her chest. Fingers that had been sure and in control were suddenly fumbling and failing as she raced to release the velcro that kept them on. By the time she got both of them off she felt hot and on edge but Oliver didn’t seem to have noticed, he stood still as a statue with the jacket still caught at his elbows.

She slid one arm off and crossed behind him to get the other, but when she was at his back the light from the kitchen caught the silvery white of his scars and she didn’t realize as the other arm of the jacket slipped off, leaving her standing there staring.

She’d seen the scars almost daily for almost two years now, they weren’t ever anything she ever fixated on. She’d reconciled long ago that she may never know all the stories and knew that for some she may not want to know. But right then with him naked before her except for his mask she wondered how much they affected him.

He was so good with armor. With fronts and facades and fakery. And she knew she had been allowed inside his walls, but that wasn’t always enough, it wasn’t always deep enough. His scars were another layer of armor but he couldn’t shed them. He was forced to carry them with him no matter what. She may be able to strip him of weapons, and leather, and the ever present hood, but she’d never be able to take away his scars.

The most she could do is let him know that she saw them and she knew them as well as she knew him and most importantly that she knew they didn’t define him. The man she’d fallen in love with had scars, and a mask, and a smile, and a soft hand that could kill if necessary. The man she’d fallen in love with saw the terrified woman who was so scared of being left behind again she couldn’t attach herself to anyone. Except she had. And there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it. And in his own way he’d been reassuring her of his commitment to her for months.

With his hood clenched in her fists she let out a sigh and leaned forward until her forehead rested against the long angry scars along his right shoulder blade. He shifted slightly beneath her and she just breathed, feeling his warmth and his strength and before she pulled back she let her lips graze across the worst of the old injury, her silent acknowledgment of the part of him she couldn’t remove.

His eyes bore into her as she moved in front of him, taking her time to straighten the jacket out, fold it in two and lay it gently over his bow. He tracked her every move and when she turned she knew she could remove the mask.

Her hands were steady as she reached up, reminded of the day she’d first put it on him and called him a hero. She wasn’t sure he believed that himself yet, but she did.

When she slipped it off he shut his eyes and she slowly lowered herself back to her heels as he finally stood before her bare, ready, hers to hurt or heal, the most vulnerable she’d ever seen him.

Her choice was simple and without looking where it landed she tossed the mask behind her and took his hand.

He followed her, hand solid in hers, not limp and unresponsive and when she automatically rubbed her thumb over his knuckles he tightened his grip just a bit.

She headed for her room, pausing only long enough to turn on the low wattage lamp on her dresser, the soft buttery glow it gave off was their path as she guided him into the bathroom. His hand fell from hers as she reached behind the shower curtain and turned on the faucets.

His presence behind her filled the room but she didn’t look at him until the water was hot and the spray as strong as it could go. One single light over the shower was flipped on so he could see and when she looked at him she wanted to pull him into her arms and never let go.

Instead she let her hand cup his cheek, softly caressing the rough stubble she found, pressing up on her toes to brush a slow kiss across the corner of his mouth, “I’ll be just outside,” she whispered before she let go and stepped around him, shutting the door firmly in her wake before she let out a shuddering breath and slid down to the floor on shaking legs.

The events of the past few weeks were taking their toll on her. She was more unsure than ever. During the day she seemed fine, able to remind herself of why she’d told him she couldn’t wait with him, able to feel secure that she’d be fine if nothing else happened between them. And then she’d inevitably find herself with him again even though nothing had changed.

The pull between them was something she couldn’t explain. It was all consuming, smothering, and dangerous.

He loved her. She loved him. Having sex was a natural expression of those feelings. But the way they were doing it felt off and wrong and yet very right at the same time. The rational part of her brain recognized how unhealthy it all was, but she didn’t know how to stop. She still wanted it. She still wanted him.

Part of her wanted to believe that what happened that night would change him, would somehow convince him that he deserved to have it all, that he didn’t have to choose between Oliver Queen and the Arrow. But she knew he wasn’t ready. If nothing else that night was showing her how damaged he was, maybe more than she had ever thought. But then again, maybe she was too.

When the shower shut off she jumped, heart beating wildly in her chest as she scrambled to her feet and backed away from the door, mentally calculating just how long it would take for him to get out, dry off and exit.

She underestimated his speed because the knob was turning before she expected and she suddenly felt off balance, not knowing what would happen next.

But one look at his drawn face, towel wrapped low around his waist as he stood in the doorway propelled her forward.

She took him by the arm and directed him towards her bed, barely noticing when his hand slipped the knot at his hip and the towel hit the floor as he reached the mattress.

He climbed in without complaint when she drew the covers back, rolling to his side to face the window as she pulled the sheet to his waist and then hovered because she didn’t know what to do.

She eyed the other side of the bed and gulped. Something told her that even though they’d been engaging in the most dysfunctional, fucked up expression of their relationship for over a month, getting into bed with him just then would be the worst move she could make.

Instead she sat behind him with her feet still on the floor and let her fingers card through his hair. The repeated motion was soothing for both of them and she waited until his breathing evened out and the tension slowly began to ease from his body. When the first soft snore emerged she paused and gradually slowed her tempo until she had stopped altogether.

She moved in stages, fully expecting him to wake, but each time he didn’t, and by the time she’d made it to the door she gave one sad glance to the empty space beside him before she stepped out, leaving the door cracked behind her.

As she settled herself on the couch she couldn’t help but pull his jacket over the back, bringing it to her face as she inhaled. He probably smelled of her vanilla body wash now, but the hood held traces of his soap. It was the same scent she could still find in her pillows.

Felicity curled her legs underneath her, shuffling down until she could lean her head on the arm of the couch, jacket held in her hands. She didn’t expect to fall asleep, intent on staying awake incase he woke up and needed her. But long days and short nights caught up with her and when she did wake it was to the too bright sunlight filling her bedroom.

She sat up with a jolt, looking around in confusion as the night before came back to her in bits and pieces.

At her bedside sat her tablet, phone and glasses but as she pushed tangled hair out of her face she couldn’t remember how she got from the couch to her bed.

Oliver was nowhere to be seen, even the towel on the floor had been removed, and when she stumbled into her living room every trace of him was gone.

But the smell of fresh coffee greeted her and she looked into her kitchen to see a full pot, an empty mug, and an arrow in the wall with a note attached that said _‘Thank you’_.

**  
  
**


	6. 3x07-Draw Back Your Bow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you!! So glad so many are sticking with this one. I do want to take a minute to maybe just pass along a reminder that this is a very different sort of story for me. If you've been with me for a long time or have read a lot of my previous works I tend to stick with canon situations and realism. I feel in a way this is almost more akin to one of my tropes where I take something cliched and borderline ridiculous and try to make it as believable as possible. 
> 
> Again, do I believe this would ever happen or that the characters would do this on the show. Nope. Not at all. BUT if they did, and they did enter into this relationship that I've been describing for the past five parts then this is how I see it playing out. 
> 
> I feel some readers/reviews aren't maybe following how almost A/U this is for me (and the characters) and may be judging me and my take on the characters under normal circumstances based on this one storyline. I think I've proven myself that I understand these characters and can be trusted with them. 
> 
> Now that that's out of the way, thanks again for hanging in there and coming back. I will now return you to your regularly scheduled SMANGST! 
> 
> Enjoy! And please let me know what you think!

By the time Felicity got back to her place, the blue couture dress she’d been so in love with only hours earlier felt like a straightjacket. She reached behind her to tug down the zipper, throwing her clutch onto her bed in frustrated anger as her ankle wobbled and she was forced to sit down quickly or risk tripping to the floor.

The entire day had been one disaster after another and though she’d tried to keep her chin up she’d felt beaten down and used by the end of it.

Ray’s invitation to dinner, Digg’s visit to her office, Oliver once again telling her loud and clear that he had no intention of being with her, and then all of that culminating with Ray’s kiss that she tried to enjoy until he backed away from her with a muttered apology and ran from her office like the hounds of hell were on his heels.

Hot tears stung her eyes and her head pounded as she sat slumped, one hand trying to undo the buckle of her shoe as the dress slid off her right shoulder.

She knew what Oliver had said to her and what she’d said to him that terrible night they’d buried Sara, the decisions they’d both made and yet she’d stupidly let herself fall into this game of shadows where they did whatever the hell they wanted but never talked about it. She’d known it was going to blow up in their faces and she was afraid that it finally had.

Of course nothing had changed after her last encounter with Oliver. They hadn’t even had sex but she’d never felt closer to him, and yet the next day she’d walked into the foundry and they both found themselves behaving as if nothing had happened. She couldn’t blame him though, not exclusively, she was as much to fault with everything that had passed as he was.

So she’d tried with Ray, she really had. She wanted him to kiss her because she wanted to know if she could feel anything for someone other than Oliver. For a brief moment there had been a flash of something, but it was gone in an instant and then so was Ray and she was left even more hurt and confused than before. Because as much as she disagreed with Oliver’s rationale she understood him and she understood why a man with his past and his responsibilities felt the way he did even if she thought there was another way.

She just didn’t know how much longer they could continue. They were speeding towards the cliff and the options were either to jump together and hope they made it to the other side, or let go and be left alone to deal with the fallout.

Except a world she lived in without Oliver Queen in it wasn’t one she wanted any part of.

With a ragged sigh she shrugged out of the dress and left it pooled on the floor before she tossed her shoes in the closet and walked for the bathroom, pulling pins from her hair as she did.

The shower was hot and she stayed under the spray for far longer than she normally would have. By the time she got out she was dead on her feet and bypassed the dresser with pajamas to slide into bed unclothed, hair still wet, it was a problem she’d deal with in the morning.

* * *

When she woke up it wasn’t to her alarm or the sun coming in through the window. No, she woke up to the rasp of Oliver’s stubble on the inside of her thigh.

At first it was just warmth and pleasure and slow tendrils of heat beginning to work their way up from her belly as small strokes of his fingers and nipping kisses of teeth and tongue made her feel heavy and still half asleep.

She shifted lazily, feeling him push one leg higher, opening her to him even more and she smiled as cool air crossed her naked chest.

When it all fell into place her eyes snapped open, head lifting on a gasp to look down to see him stretched out along the end of her bed, covers pushed aside as he lay easily between her thighs as if her waking up to him eating her out was an everyday occurrence.

He must have felt her wake because at that same moment he used his thumbs to spread her open, tongue pressed wickedly to her clit. She fell back, shoulders pushed into the mattress as her body took over, hips lifting to grind into his face and any thought that she shouldn’t be allowing him to do this flew from her mind as he began to suck.

She didn’t know why he’d come to her that night, not after what he’d said over the comms. A part of her had thought maybe that was his way of telling her all of it was over. But as he stroked her wet slit and slid one finger inside it was obvious that wasn’t the case.

His name spilled haltingly past her lips as one hand clutched the sheets and the other found the back of his head, fingers threading through the short hairs to find some sort of purchase.

There was an intensity about him that hadn’t been there before, a single minded purpose that he’d set his laser like focus on and as another finger entered her she thought maybe that purpose might just be him getting her off in the most mind blowing way possible.

Already a hot, high flush was making its way quickly up her chest and neck, her breaths becoming shorter and shorter as everything narrowed down to what he was making her feel.

She was rapidly spiraling out of control, and as much as she wanted to enjoy it and make what he was doing last, every cell in her body seemed hell bent on getting to orgasm as quick as it could.

His tongue danced around her clit; flicking, circling, tapping, licking, all while his fingers-three now- were twisting inside her in such a way that all she could do was hold herself rigid and wait as the slow build within her grew and grew, sending fire through her veins.

The fist gripping his hair was static, every muscle in her body stretched as taut as his bow string, and she was definitely reaping the benefits of his overly dextrous hands just then.

Strangled half moans bordering on sobs seemed to be the only sounds she was capable of making as he skillfully and relentlessly drove her right up to the edge and then over.

It was swift and hard, stealing her breath as her body arched, his fingers still strumming inside her. Behind her closed eyes all she could see were dancing sparks of light that gradually faded away to nothing as her shoulders and hips slowly lowered back to the bed and he finally pulled his hand away.

She could still feel his breaths against her skin, and the heavy warmth of his presence, his hands stroking up and down her thighs, not letting her arousal completely abate as she tried to calm her thundering heart

 

Finger by finger she forced her hand to release his hair and she wondered if she’d hurt him. Her now free hand raised up to push curled, and tangled strands from her face as she swallowed once, blowing out a long breath before she gathered the courage to look down.

All she could see was the top of his head and the side of his face, his eyes shut, but his hands still moving in skims, barely making contact with her skin.

When he finally lifted his head and locked his eyes with hers she felt her heart twist. Behind his lust blown pupils was pain, and betrayal, and hurt. Her heart slammed furiously into her rib cage and she knew that somehow he knew what had happened in her office that night.

“Oh god!” she exclaimed, shame and guilt and then anger at herself for feeling guilty rolled over her so swift it left her reeling.

His answer was to drop his mouth to her hip and scrape his teeth over the thin skin making her over sensitive nerves flare to life. She hissed and arched away but he flattened one palm over her belly to keep her in place, thumb dipping down to swipe through her drenched folds and find her swollen clit.

She keened as he continued his assault, lips trailing down the top of her thigh, only stopping to suck hard, leaving small reddened patches in his wake that she knew would be visible tomorrow.

“Damn you,” she hissed when she realized what he was doing. Marking her, branding her, making sure anyone else who got close enough to see those parts of her body knew she was taken. And damn him because she was.

“Damn you,” he growled back, gaze burning into hers. And in that instant everything they hadn’t been saying to each other was being screamed. The sheer volume of it in both quantity and scale enough to make her feel like she would be crushed by its weight.

Oliver was a raw edge, exposed and defensive and so was she. One wrong word or action by either of them could cause the whole house of cards to come tumbling down. Anxiety rose within her, and she knew he could feel her trembling. Her hands started to tingle as the blood rushed away from her extremities and she knew that one of them had to make the first move.  

But it was he that blinked first, the anger melting away and the next time his lips met her skin it was so gentle and brief she almost didn’t feel it, but somehow it sent shivers coursing through her.

Like it had always been she thought he had some special ability to see straight into her soul and she thought maybe thats why this had worked for so long because they were so damn good at talking without having to say a word.

Words got in the way. Words tended to be where it got messy for them.

This though. The silent connection. The unspoken vow. The promises that didn’t need to be made. That was where they had always excelled.

She reached down to cup his jaw, thumb stroking lightly over his stubble, feeling the drying wetness of her own release and it should have been shameful, but instead it was one of the most intimate moments of her life.

With gentle pressure she guided him upwards, leaning back with a sigh as his still clothed body grazed over top of her heated skin, and when his forearms came to bracket her shoulders she leaned up to kiss him, tongue swiping along his lower lip and tasting herself on him.

Because underneath it all, under the pretending, and the ignoring, and the lies they weren’t fooling themselves with was love, and trust, and loyalty, and friendship.

Her hands were already working the buttons on his shirt and when she had it halfway undone he pushed up on one hand, bearing his entire weight as the other reached behind to pull the shirt over his head.

Another flood of wetness filled her center after her breath caught and he looked down at her with just a hint of a cocky smirk on his lips, and the sight of a whole Oliver who wasn’t denying himself happiness was incredibly sexy.

Her palms landed on his broad shoulders, kneading and carressing as he settled himself back over her, his weight solid but not crushing. She looked up at him in almost awe as her breathing began to even back out, feeling returning to her toes and her fingers. His entire demeanor had changed. The anger was gone, replaced with tenderness and an ease that had certainly not been with him the week before.

She let her touch trail up his neck, nails scratching lightly through the hair at the back of his head, the low rumble she could feel from his chest letting her know he was enjoying what she was doing.

He leaned down for another kiss, this one more insistent and she felt her stomach flip when his tongue snaked past her lips to curl around hers. One of her legs came up to wrap around his hip, the heavy scratch of the denim he still wore enflaming her overly sensitive skin.

“Off,” she demanded, dropping her hands to his waist, moving to undo the button but his hands closed over hers as he put his weight on his knees and sat up, eyes dark and heavy.

She followed his every move as he slowly stood to toe off his boots, pushing up on her elbows to watch unabashedly as he worked the pants off his legs, boxer briefs being taken down at the same time.

He was already fully erect, the faint light from outside enough for her to see just how aroused he was. She shifted in place, unable to drag her gaze away and she almost jumped when she heard him let out a low chuckle as he planted one knee on the bed, “See something you like, Ms. Smoak?”

His voice was gravely and just rough enough that it made her toes curl. Her heart began to thud again as she laid back, her hand brushing over her stomach before trailing northwards between her breasts causing her to twist a little into the sheets at the sensation. He shouldn’t have known that him calling her ‘Ms. Smoak’ did things to her that would have normally made her blush.

But one lifted eyebrow and the way he took such a long time to fully climb back onto the bed let her know he was most definitely aware. She swallowed hard against the sudden dryness in her mouth and tilted her head slightly to the side, “Indeed there is, Mr. Queen.”

His reaction was sudden and instantaneous. One arm sliding under her lower back as the other pushed loose hair from her face as she was lifted up into his lap in one move that left her gasping.

He took advantage of her open mouth, capturing it with his as his palm slid up between her shoulderblades, holding her securely against his chest.

For the longest time they just kissed, at first with a frantic need to it that gradually turned into something deeper and more intense.

She didn’t even realize her hips had been rocking into his until his hands ran down her ribs, thumbs brushing her nipples to take hold of her waist. He lifted her up and then back down and he was inside her.

They both groaned, her head dropping to his neck as she was still, the aching stretch of him taking her breath for a moment. Then his hand was on her chin, directing her head up and back and when their eyes met again he began to move.

She was still in his lap facing him, legs on either side as he thrust up into her and it took her several moments until she started to move as well. When she did her eyes shut, head starting to lower again, too difficult to concentrate on keeping it up and deal with how he was making her feel.

But he caught her face again and lifted it, “Open your eyes,” he ground out, but what she saw looking back at her was too much. He was asking for everything as if she hadn’t already given it to him.

She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t stare into his very soul and let him do the same with her if this wasn’t a sure thing and as much as she loved him and believed in his love for her she didn’t trust how much he believed in himself.

“I can’t,” she gasped, and when her forehead fell to press into his cheek he didn’t stop her.

He pushed her backwards and she went willingly, glad to let him spread her wide, hands on her knees to open her even further as he entered her over and over again.

He wasn’t looking at her now either and a wash of guilt flared in her chest, as she tipped her head back, exposing her throat as her hands clutched at his biceps.

His mouth caught one breast, sucking hard, making her hips lift into his erratically as that low burn grew in her belly and she suddenly couldn’t remember anything about why she should or shouldn’t be looking at him just then.

He shifted lower, angling her pelvis just so and twin moans filled the air, everything else falling away. She clutched at him, his arms, his back, his ass as he rocked steadily, the headboard banging a rhythm she couldn’t care to be self conscious about.

When he reached between them to run circles over her clit with his thumb she was done for, holding him to her as hard as she could to keep the pressure right where she needed it most. Her veins filled once again with wildfire, every point in her body focused in one spot.

His thrusts grew harder, and then the rhythm she’d noticed previously was lost and so was she. His name was shouted from her throat as she came and one hand cupped the back of his head as he followed, burying his face in her neck as he echoed her release.

He tried to move off her immediately but she made a noise of protest and he stilled, letting her drag one hand over his hair and down his back until he grew too heavy and she tried to shift beneath him.

It felt completely natural when he rolled to his back beside her and reached down to pull up the covers, the lavender duvet enveloping both of them as she turned her head in shock to see him settling next to her.

“Oliver…” she breathed out, unable to let herself believe that he was actually staying.

One strong arm wrapped around her middle to tug her close until he could bury his nose in the join of her shoulder and neck. He shushed her lightly, “Go back to sleep.”

Warmth filled her and after only a moments hesitation she let herself relax into his chest, turning so she was tucked as close to him as possible.

With his hand stroking through her hair and his heartbeat in her ear she fell asleep.

When she woke the second time it was morning, the early diffused light just beginning to make its way into the room. But once again it was his stubble that roused her, this time on her cheek.

She blinked open heavy eyes to see him standing next to the bed, fully clothed, one hand cupping her face as he brushed a kiss to her temple.

“Your alarm is about to go off. I’ll see you tonight.”

And before she had a chance to respond he was leaving, long strides eating up the distance to the door and out of sight.

Felicity blew out a long breath, pulling the covers tight to her chin as she rolled over, back pointed stubbornly to the window and watched the clock tick down the minutes until she had to get up and pretend as if everything was fine.


	7. 1x08-Flash vs. Arrow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Bonus chapter!! I couldn't ignore the awesomeness that was the Flarrow. This chapter I hope reflects the feel of 1x08 of Flash and how that episode could have affected these two within the context of this story. 
> 
> Thank you so much for sticking with me. There are two more episodes until I catch up and they will both be posted before 3x10 airs. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy! Pleas let me know what you think!

It took Felicity far too long to realize that their hotel rooms in Central City had a connecting door. In fact it wasn’t until they had returned that first night, after her shirt had been set on fire by Barry and she’d mumbled out an excuse about why she was wearing a STAR Labs t-shirt that she knew both Digg and Oliver didn’t believe that she saw the narrow sliver of light shining through the slightly opened door.

Tip-toeing across the thin carpet she peeked her head inside to see the telltale signs that Oliver had already been in. His suitcase was open on the bed and she could hear the sound of the shower.

There had been a shift since they’d left Starling, each mile further away somehow erasing the months of tension and uncertainty and wrongness that had been hanging over them. He was lighter. She was lighter.

The small touches she’d missed during the daytime were back. His hand at her elbow as she exited the train, a smile that reached his eyes when he said he’d carry her bag and their fingers overlapped.

Considering where those fingers had been on her body she shouldn’t be focusing on such a small innocent touch, but it represented normalcy, and the idea that they could actually make it work, that both sides of the world they’d been living in could come together as a whole, complete relationship.

As she stood in the doorway, hand hesitating on the frame a thought crossed her mind and her skin immediately flushed, blood thrumming through her veins as she imagined him naked, hot water flowing over his skin. She swallowed heavily once and pulled the door open all the way.

By the time she hit the marble of the bathroom she’d already stepped out of her skirt and was pulling the borrowed shirt over her head.

The mirrors and door were fogged from steam but she could see the outline of his body as he stood facing the showerhead. When his hands paused atop his head for just a second she knew he was aware of her presence, but he didn’t turn around.

Quickly she shed her underwear and bra, letting them fall to the floor at her feet as she slipped off her glasses and pulled her hair out it’s band.

The door to the shower opened just as she reached for the handle.

She stepped in quickly, letting the door shut behind her with a soft snick, hot water immediately hitting her as he took half a step forward to make room in the confined space.

But she had no need for space and closed the gap between them, her peaked nipples and the tips of her fingers on his hips their only point of contact. She watched the muscles in his back twitch, and ripple as her breasts brushed his skin, dipping her head to watch where the water rolled over him so she could trace it with her touch.

A low noise came from his throat when she followed one stream of water across his lower back and over the curve of his ass, moving so slowly she wondered if he could even feel her, but by the fine tremors she saw course through him she knew he could.

“Hi,” she said softly, finding a scar high on his right thigh she’d never noticed before.

“Hi,” he breathed out in reply, “You going to share the real reason you were wearing Allen’s shirt?”

She laughed lightly at that, sending little pricks of electricity zipping through her as her breasts rubbed against him, “Nope. And it belonged to the lab, not Barry.”

“I’d rather we not talk about him while we’re both naked if that’s okay.”

“You brought it up,” she reminded him, lips pressing into his dragon tattoo.

She felt his shoulders lift as he prepared to respond and then let out a half irritated exhale that made her smile into his skin, dropping kiss after kiss as she worked her way along the scared and inked flesh, before turning her attention to where her fingers were still exploring lower.

She took her time, following one trail and then another, getting infinitesimally closer each time until her breasts were pressed flush into him and her hip met the outside of his thigh. He’d half turned towards her and when his left palm moved back to grip her leg she let out a rushing breath at the contact.

With that she moved forward until they were touching from her forehead pushed into his shoulder blade all the way down to her dark pink painted toes that slightly overlapped the edge of his foot. Both her arms came up to band about his waist, hands running over every bit of muscled flesh she could reach until she brushed the head of his erect cock and a strangled moan that could have been her name burst past his lips.

She worked by touch alone, unable to see around him, but she knew by the way he gripped her thigh tighter and the minute jerks of his hips as she slowly began to stroke his hard length that touch alone was good enough.

Her other hand traced the cuts of muscle that ran from his hip inwards, strumming over the taut skin of his belly and the dips and valleys of his abs as she continued to work him. His breaths became more ragged, and when she used her thumb to cut over the head of his cock his hand flashed up to capture her wrist.

In an instant she found herself pressed against the cold tiles, his mouth hungrily latched onto hers as their lips met a bit sloppily at first before he slowed his assault to suck her lower lip into his mouth, teeth biting down and sending waves of desire straight to her core.

His hands skimmed over her ribs, down to cup her hips and over the roundness of her ass before they returned northwards, finding her breasts as they did. She arched into him as he kneaded and pinched, somehow knowing exactly how far to pull or tweak to give her pleasure instead of pain.

When he grasped her waist and hitched up higher, only her toes could touch the ground, but he was supporting her weight as he dipped his head to suck one pink tip into his mouth. He took a hard draw that left her writhing, trying to grab onto his wet hair as a warm glow that had nothing to do with the hot water began to flush across her skin.

She was lifted another few inches and had no choice but to bring her legs up around his middle, both of them faltering when he brushed against her center. A  strangled, desperate sound emerged from low in her throat unable to stop her hips from thrusting forward to feel him positioned just between her outer lips.

The light in the shower was bright. Brighter than any other light they’d been in. The shadows and barely lit spaces had worked before, but Central City seemed to be forcing them out of the shadows and when he lifted his head to look up at her, the pain and regret she’d grown used to seeing wasn’t there, instead she just saw lust and love and hope.

Her hips stopped rocking against his as she reached up to gently stroke his cheek, “Maybe we should continue this on the bed,” she suggested huskily, knowing if they had sex in the shower it would be over all too soon.

His lips quirked upwards as he stared at her before wickedly rolling his pelvis in a way that had her seeing stars. She gasped in surprise, hands clutching his shoulders as he drew back until he was just positioned at her entrance.

Neither of them blinked as he began to push into her so slowly it stole her breath away.

“Maybe, we should start here and finish out there.”

His words were short and clipped as he struggled to keep from plunging into her in one swift move.

Inch by agonizing inch he sunk in and she was sure she’d stopped breathing. Her head fell back, his mouth flicking over her neck as he continued to torture them both.

He was more than halfway inside when he paused, she felt his hands flex around her ass and then before she could blink he plunged forward the remaining distance causing them both to cry out.

She expected him to begin to pound into her but he didn’t. Instead he continued to move his lips up and down the column of her throat, licking rivulets of water, scraping his teeth over her pulse point until she began to squirm and gasp against him. She circled her hips, pushing against him, unable to think of anything other than needing to feel him entering her over and over again.

His mouth sucked hard on her collarbone before he planted both hands on the wall next to her head and pushed off of her. She gasped as her eyes met his, dark and a little bit dangerous and she gripped him tighter with her legs as she realized it was only his lower body that was holding her up just then.

He pulled out just as slowly as he’d first pushed in with her somehow balanced between his thighs and the wall, making her whimper. Four shallow, pulsing thrusts had her seeing stars to the point that her head was still reeling when he suddenly wrapped an arm around her, shut off the water and began to stride for the bedroom.

She clung to him, unable to quite process how he could walk so easily not only while carrying her but while he was still inside her. Each step caused small shockwaves to flare through her until they were at the bed and he was lowering her down.

It wasn’t until she was flat on her back that she realized he was still between her legs and a new flood of wetness filled her as her interior muscles clamped down hard around him.

He hissed through his teeth, jaw clenched as he stared down at her, “That wasn’t very fair.”

She deliberately bit her bottom lip and smiled as she did it again, his eyes slamming shut and she laughed low, swirling her hips as she did it once more.

That was apparently the end of his restraint.

With one solid plunge he was buried with in her again and didn’t stop. His fingers wrapped solidly around both her wrists, raising them above her head as he leaned forward, changing the angle of his penetration.

She gasped high and breathy, arching up into his touch. Already the stirrings of her orgasm had begun as he left one hand on her wrist and ran the other one down her body. When he reached her clit he slipped his thumb between them and began to make slow deliberate circles as he continued to move above her.

The headboard banged repeatedly into the wall, and she hoped the room next to them was empty. The tightness in her belly grew, drawing her higher and higher.

Her hands were suddenly free as he gripped her waist and she pressed up on her shoulders, dropping her hips open as wide as she could, clutching his biceps as she met him thrust for thrust.

Her still wet hair stuck to her face but she didn’t care, the breath stilled in her chest as she felt the heat within her rise, her clit scraping just right against his pelvic bone each time they met.

His large hand grabbed a handful of her hair, moving it out of her face to grasp the back of her neck and raise her up.

She let out a surprised ‘Oh!’ as he didn’t break his rhythm, the new position allowing him to hit a spot inside her that had her rushing headlong into her orgasm.

Her head fell into his neck as she came hard, teeth biting before she sucked a mark of her own as he continued to pulse inside her. Three more quick, rapid thrusts and a hoarse cry let her know he’d joined her. She tightened those same interior muscles again and he jumped, groaning at the sensation as they sank back into the bed.

She held him to her, letting his weight settle between her thighs as she stroked one hand over his head and across his neck. He blew out a long hot breath over the top of her breasts as they rolled to their sides, his arm coming up to wrap around her as she sleepily nuzzled into the pillow.

She may have dozed off. She was definitely in that hazy, floaty place between sleep and awake when light touches along her hip teased her to awareness. Oliver was behind her, the  heat of him was comforting, her lower legs tangled with his in the same spot where they’d collapsed bonelessly, but she had no way of knowing how long it had been since they’d made their way from the shower to the bed.

“Why did you kiss Palmer?”  

His fingers didn’t stop the slow swirls and patterns they were drawing, but she went rigid at his unexpected question and didn’t know what to say.

“He kissed me,” she said eventually because it was the truth, she’d been surprised by Ray’s action. She hadn’t honestly thought he saw her as a woman until that night.

Oliver was quiet, his fingers still moving, “But you kissed him back.”

“I needed to. I needed to know if I could.”

“And--”

She rolled over to face him, his hand coming to rest on her hip as she propped her head on her hand and met his gaze. He was fighting to control his emotions, but the storm in his eyes and the faint twitch around his temples was enough of a tell for her.

“Why did you come to my office?”

He opened his mouth immediately to respond and she felt herself deflate, begin to pull back because she knew whatever he was about to say would be a lie.

But he saw her reaction and caught himself, blowing out a long breath and wiping one hand down his face as he tried to find the right words.

“I don’t really know. I...I just hate how things are with us and I know it’s my fault and I have no right but…”

“But we keep ending up in each other’s beds at night and its confusing,” she finished for him and he just sighed.

Her hand came up to coast along his cheek, watching the turmoil roll across his face. As much as she knew nothing was really fixed with them she felt at peace in that moment and content with what they were, because it was all they could be just then and maybe they needed to be okay with that.

His lids lowered as she continued to touch his face, nails occasionally scraping through his stubble until he turned into her.

She knew she should tell him they needed to talk. She knew she should tell him it had to stop.

But she couldn’t.

“We’re not in Starling right now,” she said, shifting closer, her voice low and when his eyes lifted to meet hers she knew he caught her greater meaning.

“No. We’re not,” he agreed.

That time was slow and breathless, each of them taking their time for long touches and lazy kisses. There was no frantic grasping, or thudding of the headboard. No desperate shouts or nails dug into skin. Instead they left the lights on and enjoyed the feeling of skin and heat and when she reached the top it was a gentle fall instead of an explosion, one that she felt all the way to the tip of her toes like being dipped in warm water.

And after he’d cleaned them both up it never occurred to her to return to her own room.

* * *

She hummed happily into the plush white covers, refusing to open her eyes as she heard Oliver moving around the room, until the side of the bed dipped and he pushed hair out of her face so he could see her.

“I’ve gotta go.”

“Where?” she mumbled, finally blinking open her eyes to see him backlit by the sun, her brows drawing together as she glared at the offensive light and moved to sit up against the pillows.

His eyes dropped as the covers slid down to land in her lap, exposing her breasts and she felt a tingle of want skitter across her skin.

Oliver licked his lips, eyes narrowing until he raised a hand to brush the backs of his fingers over one already peaked nipple.

At her gasp he grinned and stood, bending down to pull the large duffle bag out from underneath the bed that she knew held his bow and quiver.

“I told Barry I’d meet him for some training this morning.”

Felicity eyed the bag as he rose to his full height and something about his tone made her go on alert, “Oliver...what sort of training?” she asked warily.

He just lifted one shoulder and shot her another grin, this one wider as he headed for the door, “You said he heals fast right?”

“Oliver! Do not shoot Barry with arrows!” she yelled at his retreating back, his chuckle still audible after the door shut.

She flopped back onto the pillows with an exasperated exhale, hoping that what Caitlin had told her about Barry’s metabolic recovery rate was true.

                                                                                                                     ******

They had one more night where there wasn’t a weight hanging over them. One more night where her bed didn’t get slept in. One more night where they left the lights on.

But the day they were preparing to leave for Starling she could sense the change. He had pulled back some and so had she. The small touches were still there but the tension was returning.

And that night the door between the two rooms was shut.


	8. 3x08-The Brave and the Bold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Penultimate chapter (for awhile). This chapter takes place during 3x08. It might be my favorite one to date. Hope you enjoy, and please let me know what you think!!

Chapter 8-3x08-The Brave and The Bold

**  
  
  
  
**

Felicity’s heels clicked loudly across the concrete floor of the hospital’s parking garage. It was late, approaching midnight and well after visiting hours, but she had to stop in on her way home to check on Lyla. She’d already taken her keys out of her bag, thumb poised over the unlock button when she pulled up short because Oliver was leaning casually against the end of her car, arms crossed over his middle appearing as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

He looked up when he heard the break in her stride but didn’t move, and as she got closer she could see that he was far from relaxed.

“Hey,” she said softly, stopping a few feet away.

“Hey,” his reply was just as quiet and she could tell he’d been deep in thought which was probably not a good thing.

“I just wanted to see Lyla and John, make sure they were okay and that they didn’t need anyone to look after Sara. You’d think I’d be tired after the day I’ve had but funnily enough being attacked by a boomerang wielding Australian psycho and diffusing a bomb is quite the adrenaline pumper,” she pressed her lips together sending him a tight smile he didn’t return, “Australians, huh? They seem to have a thing for attacking us in our not so impenetrable not so secret ‘Arrow cave’.”

His lips did twitch for just a second when she raised her hands to make air quotes and the long moment of silence that stretched between them was broken when he finally pushed off the car and took a step closer.

“How is Lyla?”

“Oh, right! Sorry. She was sleeping. But everything looks good. Digg was smiling a lot which seems a bit odd since the woman he loves is in the hospital but…” she trailed off because a look she couldn’t place crossed Oliver’s face, “Anyways, Sara’s fine for tonight but I said I could watch her some tomorrow if they needed me too. And Cisco and Caitlin went to their hotel, I think today sort of messed with their heads a bit.” she looked down to find her thumb still scrubbing a spot on her hand that had been splattered with Lyla’s blood.

She stared at it until it began to blur, and when Oliver’s hand covered hers, halting her motion she gasped.

“Come home with me,” he murmured, so close now she could smell his soap and feel the heat of his body.

Her eyes flew north in shock and surprise because his asking her to go with him was unexpected. Whatever this was between them had worked because it had never been both of them acting together, it had always been one of them going to the other. An action like leaving with him meant something she wasn’t sure they were ready to deal with. But his eyes had an almost panicked look in them and she could see how hard he was trying to control it all.

“Okay,” she whispered, and a wave of relief crossed his face so swift she almost missed it.

“I brought the bike. Are you sure you’re okay to drive?”

She looked over his shoulder to where he’d nodded to see the Ducati parked a few spaces down and jerkily dipped her head once, “Yeah, I’m...I can drive.”

His hand skimmed down her arm, eyes drawing even further together and she knew he was about to suggest either he drive or she ride with him and that seemed like too much, “I can. Promise,” she assured him, voice stronger and when he took a half a step back she knew she’d been successful.

“Okay then I’ll meet you at the loft.”

Her throat felt tight, the grip she had on her keys so strong she couldn’t actually feel her fingers but she nodded again and he moved aside so she could get in her car, hand on the door frame until she was settled inside with her seatbelt on.

Their eyes met once more, both knowing how different this was, how much this meant but afraid to verbalize it.

His lips twitched once as if he was about to speak but then he was shutting the door. She sat frozen until the roar of the bike being started reverberated against the concrete of the parking garage making her jump. After that she didn’t remember much of the drive, but she knew every time she looked up she could see him in her rearview mirror.

He was already waiting to open her door by the time she’d put the car in park and grabbed her bag, “Are you sure...Thea, and…”

“Please,” was all he said, holding out his hand to help her out and she took it with no hesitation.

He didn’t let go of her as he led her inside and this time there was no pausing by the door or on the stairs as they made their way to the second floor. She had to swallow hard to avoid making a quip about the last time she was there, her nerves threatening to get the better of her because everything in her told her that this night mattered.

It wasn’t until he pushed open a door at the far end of the hall that he let go of her. The room was large, she could make out a bed, a dresser, a large leather chair and accessories that looked more like Thea’s doing than Oliver’s, but the defining feature of the space was a soaring bank of windows that looked straight out over the Starling cityscape.

“Whoa,” she breathed out, absently letting her bag fall to the floor, feet moving her forward until she stood in front of the glass, just enough light inside that she could faintly make out their reflections if she focused her eyes,.

“You can’t get away from it, can you?”

The words had slipped out, an instant thought that should have stayed in her head, but it didn’t and now it was out there and she froze as she saw him stiffen behind her.

“I’m sorry. I…”

“No. You’re right,” he said tightly, and when she turned she saw him standing like a statue except for his thumb and fingers rubbing together by his side.

His head tilted to the side before he spoke, “Barry said tonight...he said that there must be something good in me if I came back and still want to help people. You’re my something good. But I can’t put you in danger. You could have been hurt today and I wasn’t there and this is--”

She cut him off, one hand flashing up angrily, “If you expect me to stay you won’t finish that sentence,” heart pounding because she’d come in on the end of that conversation between him and Barry and she didn’t want to let herself hope.

His mouth opened once and then shut quickly.

“I could be hit by a bus tomorrow, Oliver. None of us are immortal. None of us are guaranteed any sort of future. And instead of living you sit here punishing yourself. But you’re punishing me too!”

He shook his head sharply, looking down and away before returning his burning gaze to her.

“If something had happened to me today. If I was the one in the hospital right now instead of Lyla-”

He stepped back with an agonized expression on his face, almost growling, “Don’t.”

But she pushed on, “Yes! If that was me that was lying in that bed right now would you feel any differently about it whether we were together or not? Would you not be the person sitting by my side? Because I know who I would want to see when I woke up.”

He scraped both palms up his face and over his head, clearly upset by what she’d said, but it was past the point that it had needed saying.

“I don’t deserve you! I have done terrible things. Things you don’t even know about,” he blurted out as he paced in front of the large window, finally pausing to stare out into the city they sacrificed so much for.

With a sigh she approached him quietly, one hand coming up to rest on his too tense back, “Then keep doing un-terrible things with me.”

The breath erupted from his lungs, bending him over as he braced himself on the sill.

“I want to,” he said almost desperately, “God, Felicity, I want to so much.”

Her hand stroked over the taut line of his spine once and then she stepped back, moving a few steps over to give him a moment of space because she could sense how close to the edge he was.

She lost herself staring out the window, unaware of how long it took for him to move behind her, their ghost like images appearing to overlap in the glass and she wondered if that’s how he saw himself and the Arrow; both identities neither here nor there, both existing in some sort of liminal state that trapped him from becoming fully corporeal.

Long fingers wrapped around her wrist, halting the movement she hadn’t even known she was doing again, but this time he resumed it for her, “You missed some,” he said thickly, her eyes cutting down to see a thin band of dried, brown blood hidden in the crease of her wrist and her night and everything that had happened slammed back into her.

He felt the tremors that rolled through her, hand sliding up her arm to cup her elbow, “Go take a shower.” It was said in that soft voice that always managed to calm her down, and she could feel her shoulders dropping already.

A shower sounded perfect. She needed a few minutes to herself and she thought he might need the same.

“Yeah, that sounds good,” she replied, trying her best to forget how just the week before in Central City they’d shared the shower, but that seemed like a lifetime ago, and she knew Oliver wouldn’t be joining her this time.

Almost numbly she let him guide her to the bathroom, show her where everything was that she might need. It wasn’t until he’d shut the door behind him that she realized he hadn’t given her anything to wear, but that didn’t seem very important just then.

She moved methodically as the water heated up. Stepping out of her shoes and lining them neatly against the wall. Unzipping her skirt and folding it to lay on the counter. The top she was wearing followed. The one she’d had to change into because the blouse she’d been wearing was covered in Lyla’s blood. She had to blow out a shaky breath at that thought and then hurriedly removed the rest of her clothes and jewelry.

The water was hot, like tiny needles of fire piercing her skin but she welcomed it. She’d wrapped her hair into a messy bun high on her head, not wanting to deal with wet hair the next morning. That made her pause and her pulse to increase because she realized she assumed she was staying the night.

The scent of his soap wasn’t overly masculine, but it was very Oliver and something she associated with him. Sharing that scent seemed intimate and personal at a level that hadn’t reached yet regardless of what they’d been doing for almost two months.

When she emerged from the bathroom wrapped in nothing but a towel it took a moment for her eyes to adjust. The room was still dark and she didn’t notice him at first, sitting on the side of the bed, shirt gone. He looked as if he’d been changing and then forgotten what he was supposed to be doing. Elbows on his knees, hands clasped in front of him, head bowed he didn’t so much as twitch as she padded silently over to stand in front of him.

One hand gripped the top of the towel while the other reached out to stroke over his head, but when he looked up she saw the raw fire burning in his eyes.

“I need to make sure you’re okay,” he said roughly, voice so low it almost sounded like he was using the modulator.

She nodded her consent and without another word he reached for the knot of the towel and tugged, letting the heavy fabric fall to the floor.

Her lungs expanded as he rose, one hand coming out to rest at her waist, keeping her in place. He looked down with an expression that was a mix of love and fear and borderline terror and she was jolted with the memory of how he’d rushed down the stairs to the lair after receiving her call, his eyes going to her first before even seeing Lyla on the table.

His hand lifted to pull the band away that held her hair and she couldn’t hide the small shivers that shook her as the long strands settled around her shoulders. Strong fingers massaged her scalp, drawing through the blonde tresses as her eyes fell shut at the sensation. When he’d covered her entire head she felt his thumbs caress her temples, teasing the sides until she blinked up at him.

“You didn’t get hit, did you?”

“No. No, I’m fine.”

“You were covered in her blood and I thought--It was like that night again.”

“I’m fine.”

If he actually heard her he didn’t show it. Calloused fingertips traced her cheekbones and across her lips before trailing down her neck causing her head to tip to the right. Soft lips and the slightest scrape of his stubble rasped against her skin as he dropped small kisses along her jaw all the way to her ear.

Her breaths were already becoming shorter when he found the lobe with his teeth, lightly biting before soothing the sting with his tongue. More shivers flowed over her as he traced the shell, taking one more nip and then working his way down the strong, taut column of her throat.

When he reached the join of her shoulder she felt him lave the spot sending tingles shooting down her arms, her neck stretching even further to give him more access. Hands roamed her back, making sure to cover every inch, nothing left untouched and she knew that as much as he was giving her pleasure, every place he touched that he found whole and unharmed was healing something inside of him.

She didn’t expect him to sit back down on the bed and grasp her hips, pulling her forward until she was only a few inches away. His hands began on her shoulders, cupping and kneading them lightly before running them down to her wrists, lifting each one in turn to press a kiss to her pulse points.

Then he bracketed her ribcage and leaned forward, lips landing between her breasts and she  couldn’t help wrapping her arms around him to hold him close. His breaths were heavy as she coasted one hand over his hair, the other clutching the back of his neck.

Her hands slowed, dropping to his back when he began to move, mouth finding the underside of her breast making her gasp and arch into his touch. It was his tongue that followed the swell of flesh, lips chasing after, covering the entire area except for where she wanted him the most.

Small whimpers of frustration mixed with her heavier breaths as he continued to tease and torment, hand falling to her other breast to incite the same torture there.

When he did wrap his lips around one pebbled nipple and swirl around the tip, it was sudden, causing her to gasp in desire, pressing up on her toes as she leaned into him. Her head fell back as she grasped his hair for balance, losing herself in the warmth that surged through her as he sucked hard, pinching and rolling the other nipple with deft fingers.

Every place he touched had her burning with electric sparks that seemed to skitter over her skin and head straight to her center.

He spun her in place, back now to him, breath hitching in her throat, cool air flowing over her still wet nipple making it tighten even more. The frantic tinge she’d been able to feel shifted to one of focus and she felt him adjust behind her as his fingers began on her right hip and slowly and methodically made their way across her lower back to her left.

She twitched and jerked uncontrollably as he continued his search, seeking to ensure she wasn’t harmed, but each pass of his hand as he made his way up her back only fanned the desire within her that was threatening to take control.

By the time he reached her shoulder blades she was trembling, breaths coming in short little pants that whooshed out in one stuttered exhale when he stood, so close his body heat poured off him in waves and she felt surrounded by him.

His fingers were fixated on one spot and it took her far too long to remember it was where she’d been shot. Nothing more than a small puckered pink mark she didn’t think of it that often but Oliver couldn’t seem to leave it alone.

When his mouth joined, her head fell back with a groan, rolling to rest against the top of his shoulder and she wondered how many times he’d wanted to do nothing more than that since that night.

His other arm wrapped around her middle, one thumb stroking almost languidly over a breast and she could feel her knees begin to go weak at the overwhelming sensations he was pulling from her.

Time fell away, and she found herself leaning back against his chest when his lips found the sensitive spots along the back of her neck, nosing her hair out of the way before nibbling a line to the corner of her jaw.

A fine sheen had broken over her skin, breaths no more than shallow pants as he drove her to new heights.

When she turned back around she saw him standing, silhouetted against the lights of the city and it was a sight she knew she’d never forget.

Without looking away she dropped her hands to undo his pants as quick as she could. It only took one push for her to work them past his hips and fall to the floor. He skimmed out of his underwear just as quickly, kicking the forgotten garments to the side before bringing his heated gaze back to her.

Biting her lip she placed one hand on his chest, feeling the strong play of muscles beneath her palm as she pushed him backwards until he was laying on the mattress. Letting her fingers dance from his knees and up his thighs she saw his hands and jaw clench as he he twitched below her. His cock was rock hard, but as she went to kneel he grasped her by the elbows and had her swung to the bed next to him in one swooping move.

“Next time,” he muttered, braced over her and they both froze at what his words meant. Because she was quite certain that they knew each time this happened it could and possibly should be the last. She’d never allowed herself the thought of a ‘next time’ and she didn’t think he had either.

His eyes widened in worry, unsure of her response, and with her pulse quickening for more than one reason she dragged her hands down his pecs and abs until she could grasp his cock, “Next time,”

The breath exploded from his lungs, his hands suddenly everywhere as him mouth found hers. The kiss left her tingly and lightheaded and when two fingers swept through her folds to sink into her wet center she keened into him, his mouth swallowing the noise.

As he pumped his fingers she felt the low tug in her belly begin. His thumb began to circle her clit and her hips wouldn’t stay still. She was gasping and moaning, small breathy noises constantly escaping her lips as he continued to stroke her.

When she frantically reached down to clamp over his forearm, he looked surprised, “Need you. Now,” she managed to say and he took her cue, slipping his fingers from her as she dropped her hips open in invitation.

They both groaned when he entered, seated fully inside as she reveled in the feeling of him stretching her. His movements were slow when he began, pulling almost all the way out until just the tip of his cock was in her warm heat and then he’d push back in just as controlled. But gradually it grew faster, the distance he pulled out shorter and when he slid one hand behind her knee to tilt her pelvis towards him her head fell back with a gasp.

She didn’t know what to think when he stopped, but when she saw his face and the pained expression on it her heart lurched.

“I was so scared,” he said brokenly, paused above her and she couldn’t help the wave of caring and love that came over her. She knew how much weight he carried with him. How much he let it affect him and them. How much his issues had thrown her entire world into a tailspin. And she still wanted to do nothing more than to help him.

She grasped one of his hands and brought it up, laying it over her chest so he could feel the swift pounding of her heart, “I’m okay.”

A strangled noise came from his throat and then his mouth was crashing into hers as his hips resumed their rhythm. She could only gasp into him as what had been a slow build began to grow.

There was an intensity within him that she’d never felt before, leaving her tingling and more aware than ever, some sort of primal connection between them that had her pushing into his thrusts, meeting him move for move as she became swept up along with him.

His grip was too tight, the hand holding her thigh high against his hip digging in almost painfully, but she didn’t care. Each time they came together now she was crying out, unable to stay silent as the flame inside her burned brighter.

Her moans only drove him to move faster, harder, and it was exactly what she needed. Every pass into her wet heat pressing into her clit until she dropped her hands to his ass to hold him to her, both of them rocking into each other as they raced toward the edge.

She was right there, every muscle in her body taut and rigid as she waited for the release but somehow it continued to build until her skin felt like it was on fire and the air in her lungs was stilled. Her entire world narrowed down to that single moment.

Oliver drew out of her, despite her frantic protests, dark, endless eyes locked on hers before he murmured a phrase she’d heard him use before, something foreign but familiar and when he plunged back in she exploded.

He was still moving above her, all thought of a rhythm gone as he let himself go and as her brain fizzed bright white he collapsed forward, lips brushing against her neck,  murmuring something else, and everything in her told her it was another declaration he couldn’t stop himself from making.

When she felt she could move she brought her hands up to hold him, letting her fingers follow the length of his spine from the nape of his neck all the way down to the wide band of scar tissue she’d never asked about.

He lay pressed against her until his breathing evened out, then he dropped kisses along her collarbone and up to her mouth before he slid from her and then the bed. When he returned with wet cloths, she remained silent while he cleaned her thighs, carding her fingers through his hair as he gently cared for her, a soft laugh breaking the quiet when he spontaneously kissed her hipbone, his beard tickling her.

She opened her arms when he tossed the cloth to the floor, and he crawled back into the bed with no hesitation. But when he went to gather her to his chest she shook her head and laid back, tugging him down until his head was pressed over her breast, heart under his ear.

He lay stiff for a moment until she soothed a hand over his head and when he gave in he slid one arm beneath her, the other draped over her middle to pull her as close in to him as possible.

She fell asleep holding the strongest man she’d ever known, wishing he could find the strength to let himself live.

* * *

For once she woke before Oliver. The huge windows she’d so admired the night before were a morning nuisance she soon discovered as a wide beam of early morning sun crossed right over her face.

She groaned, arm draping over her eyes as she tried to ignore the inevitable, but the knowledge that the sun was already up and it was a workday drove her to roll to her side and open her eyes.

It was a sight she was sure she’d keep with her forever. Oliver lay facing her, one hand tucked under his pillow, the other resting lightly over her side, not even moving as she’d turned over.

In sleep he looked relaxed, at ease, the seemingly permanent crease between his eyes missing and she caught herself before she reached out to touch him.

For a long moment she let herself lay there and just stare at him, but when her mind began to wander to how it would be if she had this all the time she could feel that fluttery feeling of panic begin to start in her chest and found herself up and out of bed in an instant, not looking back to see if he’d woken.

With the bathroom door at her back she could feel the anxiety recede, pushing her hair out of her face with a slightly shaky hand before she busied herself by getting dressed.

When she came out with her shoes in her hand he was awake, wide blue eyes locked on her as soon as she stepped out.

“Work?”

“Yeah, it is Thursday. They expect me to show up.”

He grunted a response and rolled to his back, stretching as he did and she cursed her suddenly dry mouth for wanting to shed her clothes and jump back in bed with him.

An arm slid behind his head as he propped himself against the headboard, the muscles in his bicep on full display.

“Okay, well let me get dressed and I’ll walk you down.”

Her head came up at that, “You don’t need to see me out,” she assured him as she slipped on her heels before sweeping her hair back to put in a low ponytail for the drive back to her place.

He just shot her a look and slid out of bed, padding silently to the dresser allowing her to admire his assets until he cleared his throat and she jumped, eyes shooting to his to see he already had a pair of sweatpants on. A smirk quirked his mouth for a second as she whirled to grab her bag.

“Do you really want to chance running into my sister on your own?”

Her hand stuttered as she slid the strap up her arm, swallowing twice before she spoke, “Well, no, not exactly.”

The smirk this time was full blown and she rolled her eyes at his smug expression before stalking for the door.

But they made it safely down the hall and the stairs and into the foyer without any interruption where he paused and she suddenly felt apprehensive.

“Do you uh...do you want some coffee before you go?” he asked, sounding as nervous as she felt which actually helped put her at ease.

“No, I’m good. I’ll stop on my way into work. Which I’ll probably be late for. Again. Good thing HR never seems to catch wind of my tardiness these days. Getting fired from a third Fortune 500 company in less than a year would probably look really bad on my resume.”

He just nodded, a look of what she could have called regret crossing his features, “Barry and I are taking Harkness to Lian Yu today...I’ll let you know if we won’t be back tonight.”

“Right. Good. Um...you don’t think you’ll see Slade do you?” her mouth went dry at the thought and it took everything within her not to raise her hand to her neck, the feel of his blade pressed against her skin still something she woke up to more than she cared to admit.

Oliver’s eyes shut tight for a long moment, “No. I don’t know. Maybe.”

“Well...be careful and don’t let Barry step on any landmines.”

His smile was small but genuine, and for a second she saw him rock forward almost as if he intended on kissing her goodbye.

It was as if the air had been sucked from the room and they were frozen, staring at each other not knowing what to do.

Luckily a door shutting from upstairs and Thea’s distinctive voice calling out broke the spell, “Ollie, are you making coffee. I forgot how much the club hours sucked.”

With that Felicity jumped into action, spinning around, hand already reaching for the door when she felt him grab her arm.

“Hey, we should...we should probably talk soon,”

She couldn’t bring herself to look at him, all should could do was nod, “Yeah, we should.”

And then she was gone, hopping in her car and pulling out onto the street with barely a glance to see if traffic was coming.

She made it to work with ten minutes to spare that day, but couldn’t remember a single thing she did. All she could hear was Oliver’s voice, the one he reserved just for her saying they should talk.

**  
  
  
**


	9. 3x09-The Climb

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: PLEASE READ! Super important you read this! Since this story is using canon events and I've been doing one part per episode things must come to a natural hiatus while Oliver is away. I do not intend on writing any parts for the episodes while he's gone. I will pick back up in whichever episode he returns. Although I may ask that you give me a couple weeks of him being back to get a feel for where the show is going. The nice thing about the first nine episodes is I knew what I was writing towards. So I do not anticipate the next chapter of this story coming out for at least a month. Hope everyone understands and that you've enjoyed the story so far.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! For something that I started off calling the 'angry sex fic' this has turned into something much much more and I'm so grateful you trust me enough with such an out there idea to make it real and believable and in character.
> 
> Enjoy, and please let me know what you think!

**Chapter 9-3x09-The Climb**

 

Oliver Queen knew two things, and neither of them were a surprise to Felicity Smoak.

She'd always known he'd do whatever he could to protect his sister. That had never been something she'd questioned.

He'd told her more than once that he loved her.

But it was at that moment as she watched him walk away from her with the imprint of his lips still burning into her skin that she finally understood.

Because one could know something as fact and not truly understand it. And Oliver had been telling her in the only way he knew how for months that he was absolutely, totally, without a doubt in love with her. Sometimes it had been as if he were screaming.

The moment his hand hit the stair rail a jolt ran through her body from the top of her head all the way to the tips of her toes and like a fog lifting she finally allowed herself to know what she'd been telling him as well.

That she was absolutely, totally, and without a doubt in love with him too.

The talk they'd meant to have had been superseded by the League and Ra's al Ghul and duels to the death. She didn't know what she would say now anyways. Her fears seemed irrelevant. What did it matter that she was terrified of losing him when her nightmare came to life right in front of her.

Because the past few months she'd been too scared of trying, of putting herself out there in case it all came crashing down and she lost it all. She'd lost it all before, more than once and it wasn't something she could do again.

Except those weren't decisions she ever got to make.

The words she'd said to Oliver came back to haunt her. Her feelings didn't change whether they were together or not. His loss would still destroy her.

And the way he'd calmly told her goodbye with a peace she'd never known in him before sent a shiver down her spine. He hadn't mentioned the talk because he knew it no longer mattered.

He knew two things and that's all he needed to know.

With a great gasp of air she snapped back to herself, the world around her suddenly seeming to go from slow motion back to real time, and as Oliver lifted his foot to climb the first step she felt herself being propelled forward.

"Oliver!"

Her voice broke, desperate and plaintive but she didn't move until he froze and then turned.

She crossed the concrete foundry floor quicker than she would have thought possible, crashing into his chest as she pulled him in for a kiss that she knew she would never forget.

With her arms wrapped tight around his neck and his hands sliding up until they could cup her face she kissed him with every ounce of love she had within her, feeling her body flush with warmth as he kissed her back with equal fervor.

He murmured her name against her lips as he pulled back and a wild splash of fear struck her.

"No!" she cried, fingers digging into the shoulders of his shirt as his thumbs stroked over her cheeks.

"Felicity-"

It was goodbye, and an apology, and a last chance at hope all wrapped together, stealing her breath with its intimacy.

"How long?" she asked, never dropping her gaze.

He sighed, bowing his head until it met hers and she couldn't help how she clamped her fingers around his wrists and held tight.

"I'm sorry we never got a chance to talk. You deserve so much more. So much more than-"

She cut him off with another frantic kiss, and when it ended she was the one who pulled back, grasping his hands with hers to tangle their fingers together, "We've never needed words to talk, Oliver."

He nodded his understanding and when she made to lift the shoulder strap to the bag over his head he didn't stop her. She let it rest against the bottom step and took his hand again, waiting for his reply.

Him reaching to slip her coat from her arms was his answer.

They walked hand in hand, side by side, palms pressed so tight together she didn't know where he stopped and she began and she thought maybe that's how it should be.

He draped her coat over the back of her chair as they passed, and she didn't ask how much time they had, it was enough to know they would have this.

They didn't pause until they reached the side of the bed she'd bought for him all those months ago, still hidden away in the shadows of the foundry and she was never so grateful that it hadn't been packed up once he'd moved out.

He was already toeing off his boots and removing his shirt, not in any sort of overeager fluster of lust but rather in a need to conserve time.

Why she chose that moment to tell him she'd never know. He'd already pulled one arm out of a sleeve, his face hidden by the dark grey fabric when she said it softly, but with conviction.

"I love you."

His movements stilled, then slowed, and when the shirt fell forgotten to the floor next to them he was staring at her as if she'd given him a gift he never knew he needed.

She gave him a tremulous smile that grew as he reached out to gently run the backs of his fingers along her cheek. Turning her head she let her lips graze his knuckles before tangling their hands together.

It had all fallen away. Everything that had been keeping her from saying what she'd been denying for so long no longer seemed important. At the base, at the foundation of everything that they were she knew two things. He loved her and she loved him.

His smile mirrored hers and she couldn't stop from lifting his hand to her lips and kissing him again, heart full because if nothing else they would have this, this one moment where there were no more fears, no more excuses, no more worries or pretenses. Just the simple truth.

She stepped in closer, pressing both her palms into his chest to feel him. Feel his warmth and strength, the beat of his heart beneath her touch, the rise of his rib cage as he took a breath. Her fingers traced over the solid expanse of muscle and scars, following the outline of his tattoos until was certain she hadn't missed a single inch.

When she leaned in to press a kiss to his warm skin his hands came up, drifting along her arms, to her elbows and shoulders, the heat warming her as he found the top of her zipper and began to drag it down.

She continued to pepper small kisses across his chest, as he pulled the dress down on one side and then the other. They worked together, neither of them hurried, as if time had somehow stilled just for them, just to grant them this last bit of peace.

Her breath fanned out across his chest as his calloused fingers pulled over her now bare back with just enough contact to make her feel as if she'd touched lightning. When the dress hit the floor he cupped her hips to help her keep her balance as she stepped out of it, a low moan emerging from her throat as his hands followed downwards to grab her ass, squeezing and kneading lightly through the thin fabric of her underwear.

With her heels still on she only had to push up slightly on her toes to nip a path along the corded muscles of his neck to reach his stubbled jaw. As she sucked and licked little bites he slowly undid the closure of her bra and it soon joined the ever growing pile of clothing at their feet.

They both let out breaths as their bare skin touched and for a long moment he just held her. She pressed her nose into the join of his neck and shoulder and breathed, as if she could file away his scent to her memory just like she was trying to do with her touch. Memorizing every part of him while she could.

Strong, sure hands slid up her back, one cradling the back of her neck, the other sliding forward to tip her chin up and then he was kissing her. It was slow, and soft, and sweet, his lips sliding over hers as if it was the first time they had ever kissed. Gently his tongue traced the seam of her lips and she opened eagerly, sighing into his mouth as his tongue slid against hers.

The hand at her neck moved down her spine, causing tingles of pleasure to shoot through her. As she arched into him his touch became heavier, more solid and his kisses more insistent.

Her hands smoothed over his pecs, nails lightly raking the skin as she did and when she reached his small, pebbled nipples she made certain she didn't miss. He growled low in his throat and she did it again, sucking his lower lip between her teeth at the same time.

She was on her back, on the bed without any panties in an instant as he knelt over her, hands already undoing his belt as he stared down at her, eyes blown with lust.

Then he was just as naked as she was, a small breathy gasp hitching in her chest when his fingers encircled one ankle and carefully worked off her shoe, before running his hand up her calf, and thigh to rub his thumb over her hip bone, repeating the action with her other foot.

When the second heel hit the ground she lay back as he covered her body with his, hands skimming up her sides to find her breasts.

Her back bowed as he used light touches to circle the swell of her right breast while his mouth dropped to her left, sucking the stiff peak between his lips and leaving her breathless.

She stroked her hands over his hair, and down his shoulders, every touch taking longer than was entirely necessary. She didn't want to spend a second not trying to remember every moment.

One strong arm slid along her lower back to lift her closer, each draw he took or roll of nipple between his fingers was sending jolts straight to her core causing her hips to twitch against his.

He took one more languid lick, tongue following the curve of her breast before he drew back, eyes dark and she felt tears prick her vision.

"Look at me," he said so quietly it was almost as if she were reading his lips instead of hearing the words and as her heart thudded against her ribs she knew that this time there was nothing in the world that could keep her from denying his request.

Her hand fell to his face, thumb stroking over his stubbled cheek as she nodded.

With the arm still wrapped around her back he pulled her upright, swinging his legs over the side of the bed, placing her so she straddled his lap. She gasped, and clung to his biceps as he moved her, sucking air through her teeth when she could feel his long hard length pressing into the throb between her legs.

She rocked against him on instinct, seeing the way his jaw tightened in response.

He shifted, reaching between them and in one quick motion he was inside her.

Her mouth dropped open, short panting breaths all she could manage and then there was nothing but Oliver.

His pace was slow but steady and she knew he was trying to draw it out, to make it last as long as it could because neither of them wanted it to be over.

But she could already feel the sensations of pleasure within her begin to rise as she pressed down into him. The tingly feeling of warmth began to work its way up her chest and her breath hitched as she realized just how soon it would be finished.

Reaching down she sought blindly for his hand, bringing it up between them when she found it to lock her fingers with his, palm to palm, that connection saying everything for them.

A shallow laugh unexpectedly flew from her lips causing his brows to draw together in confusion as his rhythm slowed, but she shook her head and purposely rolled her hips into his.

"I never took off my glasses," she explained.

A tender look of love crossed his face and when she reached up to remove the frames he stopped her, "Leave them. They're you. I want...I want to remember you, just like this."

She couldn't speak over the sudden lump in her throat and instead leaned in as far as she could without losing eye contact.

Their noses brushed, short pants mingling as he resumed his motion, the short shallow thrusts hitting her in exactly the right spot.

As the spot low in her belly began to coil tighter and tighter she fought the urge to shut her eyes. One hand clenched his shoulder, the other still lay against the side of his face.

Soon the only sounds she could make were non-sensible moans and gasps mixing together as she climbed higher and higher and she could tell by the way his eyes grew darker that he was just as close as she was.

When it hit it was fast and unexpected and try as she might she couldn't help when her head fell to press into his temple. She cried out, shouting his name as she spasmed around him which seemed to be his own undoing.

His hips made one more powerful lift as his fingers sunk into the flesh of her upper thighs before he came with a roar that echoed off the foundry walls.

As their breathing began to calm she shifted back, rolling her forehead against his until she could see his face. For a second he let her see it all. His fear, his pain, his anger, and mostly his love for her. He looked shattered and the pain that lanced her heart made her cry out as she captured his head in her hands and poured every good part of her soul into that kiss.

His hands stroked over her hair and down her back in a soothing motion that was the only thing keeping her from bursting into sobs.

"I love you," she whispered through trembling lips, voice so shaky it didn't even sound like her own.

"I love you," he returned and they sat holding each other until he gave her the most regretful look and she knew it was time.

They were silent as they dressed, nothing being said because there was nothing to say. She didn't plead with him to come back. He didn't make promises he might not be able to keep.

Like they'd done such a short time before they walked across the floor side by side, fingers entwined.

When they reached the stairs he looked down at her as if he was trying to commit every facet of her to memory, and maybe he was, because she had done the same.

His lips brushed her forehead once more and with tears welling in her eyes that she swore he'd never see fall she let go.

She took as controlled a breath as she could as he picked up his bag and slid it over his head. He gave her one more look, and a small smile that she fought to return as her heart screamed out the love she felt for him.

His stride up the stairs was measured and even and she was certain she didn't breathe until she heard him push the door open at the top.

When it shut behind him she let herself weep. Because she knew he would do whatever he had to do and that more than anything terrified her. He was all she had and there would be no coming back if she lost him.

With wet cheeks she slowly gathered her coat and her bag and turned off the lights.


	10. 3x12-Uprising

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This took a little bit of thinking. It was a challenge to figure out how to go forward from where I’d left them off in part 9, especially with certain canon events. But I think I’ve got it worked out. Hope you like where this goes and that you enjoy this first chapter back. Set after 3x12 when Oliver returns to Starling. I love to hear from readers, so leave me a note and let me know what you think!

The weeks where Oliver had been gone had changed her.

They’d changed him too.

But not in the way she had hoped.

Felicity had almost shut down when she’d seen him in the streets. She expected him to come to the van, to come to her. But as she had sat mute while Digg drove them back to the foundry she’d felt a coldness enter her bones.

She watched the news reports, hungrily drinking him in, not fully believing he had returned. There had been a part of her that had grasped to the hope that he’d somehow survive, but it had been so so small. Now that he was back she didn’t know if she could trust it.

For a few brief, wonderful seconds she had been warm again. His arms around her, his hands on her skin, the scent of him so familiar it caused a physical ache in her chest. She clung to him as hard as she could as the blood pounded relentlessly in her ears blocking out everything but his voice telling her it was okay.

And then it wasn’t.

He was aligning himself with Malcolm Merlyn.

Her world crumbled again and as the air grew tight in her chest she walked away even though she couldn’t feel her feet. The dream she’d held on to, that had kept her going, that had sustained her night after night without him by her side had been shattered.

She thought it fitting that they ended it in an alley.

His eyes had been filled with pain as she’d ground out her parting words. She hadn’t been lying. She didn’t want to be a woman he loved if _that_ was how he loved. She’d given him everything and what they’d cultivated in the shadows since Sara’s death had somehow worked.

But it was gone again.

And she felt more lost than she had when everyone was telling her he was dead.

Hours later after she’d managed to get home she found herself watching the news video of Oliver addressing the citizens of the Glades. The sound was turned down because hearing his voice just then was too difficult. Instead she studied his movements, how he held himself, the way his right arm hung a little too limp at his side, the realization that he hadn’t really fought, how his jaw had tightened as he’d fired the grappling arrow.

She remembered what he’d said in the lair about how he’d almost died and the way he’d grunted when she’d slammed into him.

How badly had he been hurt? How had he survived? Was he still injured?

The questions rolled through her head as her gut tightened at the thought of him in pain. No matter what she’d said to him that night she still loved him. She still couldn’t stand the idea of him being hurt.

He’d retreated. Shut down. Put his walls back up.

Intellectually she knew why, but it didn’t make it any easier to see. She’d done the same.

If she was hurt would he still help her? Would he still want to make sure she was taken care of?

As she slid her feet into shoes and grabbed her bag she knew her answer. Even with her heart pounding so loud in her chest she was sure it would break through her ribs at any moment she couldn’t go without knowing he was okay.

Something she didn’t understand pointed her back towards the foundry. She’d known he’d already seen Thea, but she knew he hadn’t returned to the loft. He’d been too raw, too wronged to seek the comfort of family. Instead he’d go back to his underground lair with the damp air and the concrete floors and the bed he’d reluctantly let her buy.

The main lights were off when she entered through the alley door, the same door she’d stormed through only hours before. The irony wasn’t lost on her.

This time she was careful to hold the door as it shut, letting it ease into place, making only the softest of sounds as it locked.

Her monitors were in sleep mode, the low emergency lights the only assistance she had to see by, making her walk slowly as her eyes adjusted.

The sight of him on the bed made her heart flip painfully, a flock of birds seemingly caught in the trap of her ribcage as her stomach dropped out. That bed was the first place they’d made love. They’d had sex numerous times, but the fleeting last minutes before he’d left to fight the Demon had been the first time they’d made love.

He hadn’t managed to pull the blankets down, as if it had been too much trouble, or maybe he thought he didn’t deserve the comfort. His shirt and boots lay against the foot of the bed and for the first time she saw the bandages and the bruises.

She swayed for a second, the air in her lungs tightening so quick it made her wince. Unwillingly she was dragged back to when Malcolm had told her Oliver was dead, to when Digg of all people had told her to face reality.

Maybe he had died, because she’d never felt so alone.

Her feet had other plans, moving her closer and closer until she stood so close to the edge of the bed she could recall exactly how she’d laid when they’d come together.

Except now the man who had been full of power and purpose looked pale, his cheeks hollower than they had been when he’d left. Two white bandages stood out against his lightly tanned skin.  

The one that she knew in her soul to have been the death blow, the one that had collected the blood she’d tested on the sword returned to her, spread wide across his chest, wider than the sword looked. It seemed to encompass him end to end but as her vision cleared she realized it was just how the blood had seeped into the gauze.

Red on white. That’s what drew her even closer. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, carefully pulling back the bandages before she even knew she’d moved, the surprising contrast of her bright nails against the starkness is what shocked her into stillness.

And then the tips of her fingers touched his skin. Dry, hot, unnaturally warm. Any concerns she had about being too close evaporated as she slid her palm along his neck, feeling for his pulse.

The heat of his skin was like a brand, a low fire that burned through him, taking away his edge, his awareness. The reason why even with her hip pressed against his leg and her hand flat along his throat he still hadn’t moved.

He was sick.

The wound on the right side of his chest still had stitches. Small, tight, precise. But the skin around each black knot was an angry red, and she knew an infection raged through him, a few had even torn loose, the source of the blood.

Cursing his stubborn, hardheadedness she sprang to her feet, rushing to the medical supplies. She didn’t know who had stitched him up. He’d had treatment obviously, but she knew he couldn’t have done that to himself. Knowing Oliver he’d left wherever he had been before he should have.

The thought of him struggling to return to Starling when he was still injured, still hurting made tears prick her eyes.

With new bandages and a syringe full of high dose antibiotic she let her wobbly knees lower her back to the bed.

She focused on cutting off the old gauze, spreading cream over his wound before she wrapped it again, unable to move him to his side to see the back, her stomach turning because she knew the blade had gone all the way through.

She couldn’t bring herself to see the exit wound. It was too much.

By the time she’d injected the medicine into his arm she was shaking.

He’d moaned once when she’d pressed too hard over his ribs, but other than that he hadn’t moved a muscle, until suddenly his face contorted in pain, hands clenching at his sides as tension ran through him.

For the next two hours she didn’t move. Her fingers stroked through his hair, wiping the damp strands away from his clammy forehead.

He muttered unintelligible words until his fever broke somewhere near dawn. That’s when he began to say her name.

With her heart in her throat she stayed until she knew it was safe to leave him alone.

The whispered ‘I love you’ drove her to her feet.

She draped the blanket over his now quieting form, granting herself one final stroke of his brow before she drew back.

The further she moved from the bed the more she remembered why she had to put distance between them.

He loved her. Of that she had no doubt.

And she loved him.

And the only chance they had of being together was by being apart.

 


	11. Part 11-3x13-Canaries

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thanks for the awesome welcome back to this story. I’m really enjoying the challenge of sticking to canon but also making my universe work as well, even with the way certain things are going. It’s hard but fun. :) 
> 
> As always even though I’m a terribly forgetful person and don’t remember to do this as often as I should, I couldn’t do this without hopedreamlovepray. She’s always so accommodating when I send her a mad out of the blue text that says ‘I think I’ve figured out how to deal with 3x15!!’ and then lay it out in detail. Usually rambling for awhile before I stop. 
> 
> Please enjoy even though theres a lot of angst instead of smangst (sorry-we’ll get back to the sexy times. promise). And don’t be afraid to drop me a line. I love to know what you think!

It was the skittering tingle of electricity along her skin, making the fine hairs stand on end that alerted her to his presence before she saw him.

He slid out of the shadows by her front door, hands tucked deep into his pockets, mouth pulled down into a frown, but it was his eyes filled with regret that made her clip off her sharp demand for him to leave.

Instead she felt her shoulders slump in defeat and unlocked the door, flicking on the lights with a purposeful action. She wasn’t going to let him hide in the dark this time.

Besides, him being back in her apartment with only the glow of the streetlights would have been too much of a reminder of how things had been between them before. Better to flood the space with light; nowhere to hide, no way to fall into memories she was trying to bury.

They couldn’t go back to that, despite the fact that she could feel her pulse speed up and a faint flush begin to spread over her chest for the simple reason that he was in her presence. She screwed her eyes tight as a flash of memory assaulted her; his mouth on hers, strong hands moving down her waist, headed for a target even lower.

Felicity jerked her head up, fumbling for a second with her bag and keys and phone, thankful her heels had a strap around the ankle because they felt more than a little wobbly just then.

She heard the door shut but that was it, he didn’t make another sound and she knew he was waiting for her.

And that infuriated her.

She spun on one heel, arms crossing over her middle to see him only a few feet inside her apartment. “If you’re here to absolve yourself of something you might want to save your breath.”

“I’m sorry.”

His voice was soft, repentant, and completely unexpected.

The fire in her had been doused and all she could do was stare at him expectantly.

“I’m sorry I’m leaving again. I wanted to tell you that.”

Her throat was tight and thick and for a second she was back in the foundry watching him walk away to fight a duel he wouldn’t win.

“It doesn’t matter to you that I think this is the stupidest thing you’ve ever done, does it?” she spit out. Apparently there had been a spark left inside her. “Lian Yu? Of all places you’re going to willingly go back there! And all because Malcolm Merlyn told you to.” the name came out as if she was speaking of something vile, but she knew he heard her unspoken hurt, the betrayal. How could he listen to Malcolm and not her?

“I don’t have a choice.”

Her eyes widened in shock. “No choice? Of course you do! You’ve been back a week, Oliver! One week where I didn’t think you were dead!” she had to press the back of her hand against her lips because the metallic tang of bile had suddenly flooded her mouth.

That spurred him into motion, hands ripping from his pockets as he started towards her but she held her hand up to stop him as she took deep cleansing breaths and swallowed hard.

“Your stitches just came out a few days ago. You haven’t even trained full out with Digg yet, and you still think this is the only way.”

His head dropped, hands returning to their pockets and with a jolt she wondered if he kept them there to keep from touching her. It sent a flare of heat to her belly, making her palms itch.

“I have to do this for Thea. I know...I know you don’t agree. I know I have no right to ask you to trust me with this. I…”

“Why Lian Yu? Why can’t you train somewhere else? Maybe a place that doesn’t hold all your nightmares, and that’s not covered in landmines.”

“Not all my nightmares.” he said quickly, eyes flashing to hers so dark and intense she felt like all the air had been sucked out of the room.

And she understood. Because her nightmares no longer involved being held with a blade to her throat, or watching Oliver flatline. Her nightmares were consumed with watching a sword drip bright red blood over a snowy mountaintop.

“I can’t explain it. It just has to be there. There are things she needs to know. Things she needs to understand about me and mostly about herself.”

She knew the incident with Ra’s agent had rattled Thea’s confidence. Outside her training with Malcolm she’d never been tested. And the girl still didn’t know she’d been the one to kill Sara.

Somehow Felicity felt her head dipping. Oliver was doing this regardless of her protests, but he’d still come to her before he left needing some sort of assurance from her. Her feet moved her forward until they were so close she could feel the heat of him.

It took everything in her not to rock forward, to remember what it felt like to be pressed against his chest, to recall the smell of him, that specific mix of leather and soap, and something else that was just Oliver.

She couldn’t ask him to come back to her. She was past that. She’d never survive it again.

His jaw tightened, breaths nowhere near in his control as they just stood in each other’s space, neither of them willing to let it end.

She more felt than heard him draw air to speak, her hand whipping up to hover over his lips, “Don’t. Don’t make me any promises.” her voice shook, the heat of his ragged exhale feeling like a kiss as it crossed her fingers.

“I’m sorry,” he said again.

She knew he meant it. She knew that if nothing else he was sorry for how everything had happened. She knew he wanted things to be different. The problem was that he didn’t believe there was another way. And he’d made the decision for her, taken it out of her hands without even giving her a chance to try and fix it. But like she’d told him earlier in the foundry, they couldn’t go back to how things were, and that meant more than just him calling all the shots for the team.  

“The plane’s leaving. Thea’s waiting--” he explained, not even trying to hide his remorse.

“Be--” she cut herself off because there was nothing she could say, nothing she could tell him that didn’t remind her of him going off to die. The weight in her chest settled into place, just under her ribs, and she knew it wouldn’t move unless he returned.

She hadn’t even realized her eyes had shut tight in a pointless attempt at keeping her tears at bay. They sprang open when his fingers wrapped around her wrist and pressed it against him, her palm open and flat over the place where the sword had been driven through his chest.

The shock of heat and electricity that flared through her at his touch left her breathless, her skin feeling as if it was on fire.

Desire and want washed through her and when she chanced a look at his face she saw him trying to fight it too.

“I know,” he ground out.

She wanted nothing more than to say the hell with it and pull him into her bedroom. But they were beyond that now. Sex wouldn’t fix anything. The war they were in now was for something much bigger.

“I know,” she replied.

His fingers slipped between hers for a second, pushing her hand so hard into him the bones crushed together and she worried he was hurting himself. Then he moved back, two large steps and her hand hung in empty air, the phantom touch of him fading away to nothing, leaving her cold as he gripped the door handle.

There was nothing left to be said. He was leaving and she couldn’t stop him.

But his eyes screamed ‘I love you’, and she was sure hers did the same.

He nodded once, and then he was gone.

With legs that felt as if they were filled with lead she made her way over to throw the deadbolt, somehow knowing he’d paused on the step to listen for it.

She gave herself one minute to lean against the door and feel sorry for herself, just like she had everyday she thought she’d been dead. Then she pushed off and headed for her bedroom.

Hour by hour she’d get through him being gone. She had no other choice.

**  
  
**


	12. 3x14-The Return

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you so much for your continued interest and support. At least we know now that they'll only be apart for a little longer. Just a few more chapters of straight angst before we can get back to the smangst. :) 
> 
> Enjoy, and please let me know what you think!

As soon as they’d received the call that Oliver and Thea were okay and returning to Starling Felicity allowed herself to breathe. Digg’s hand dropped to her shoulder in unspoken acknowledgement of what Oliver leaving again had put her through, what it had put all of them through. She’d given him a thankful smile and gathered her things, telling him and Roy to have a good weekend. She had no intention of stepping back into the foundry until after she’d finished at least two bottles of wine and slept at least ten hours.

She’d fought between trying to pretend like nothing was wrong and attempting to track his every move. The second day they’d been on the island the sat phone she’d given him had gone dead and she thought her stomach had dropped from her body.

Then all they could do was wait. She’d tried to redirect satellites over the island but they couldn’t be repositioned that quickly.

It took another twelve hours before he made contact. Nothing more than a short text sent from the plane but it was enough and she could finally feel the terror and dread she’d been living with begin to seep from her bones.

The drive to her apartment was a blur, as was the shower she took, and getting dressed afterwards in the most comfortable clothes she owned. Then she crashed in her bed and didn’t wake until she could no longer ignore the bright midday light streaming through the room. She hadn’t slept soundly since Oliver had left.

After that she moved to the couch, only feeling slightly guilty for not going into her real work, but seeing Ray just then would have been too much. She needed to try and focus on herself, her first real foray into figuring out how her life post Oliver could work.

Focusing on herself apparently meant staring into nothing while she sipped glass after glass of red wine. By the time the sun set her head was spinning and she’d come no closer to figuring out how to try and move forward than when she’d started.

She came awake in a rush, feeling as if she was choking. Half sitting she pushed tangled hair from her face, wincing at the crick in her neck from falling asleep on her couch. With a groan she hauled herself upright, squinting into the darkness to see the time on her microwave, 3:23 a.m. She’d never get back to sleep.

The feeling that she wasn’t alone was shocking, jolting her from her half asleep state to full awareness. He wasn’t trying to hide. Wasn’t lurking in the dark. But his presence was definitely unexpected and she couldn’t stop the surprised shriek that flew from her throat, sending another vicious throb through her temples.

Oliver sat in the chair on the other side of her living room, hands folded in his lap as if he had all the time in the world to wait for her to wake.

The rush of relief at seeing him threatened to overwhelm her, she had her feet planted on the floor, hands curling into the couch cushions to propel herself forward when she stopped herself.

He’d left. Again. Because of Malcolm.

Instead of the warmth of wrapping her arms around him she settled back into the couch, drawing her legs beneath her as a shiver made her reach for the chevron printed throw that had been kicked to the floor.

“I’m glad you’re alive.” she said haltingly, his glinting blue eyes boring into her. There was something in his expression that left her on edge. She didn’t know why he was there, but something humming just below the surface warned her it was important.

He was looking at her as if he thought she might disappear, as if his presence alone kept her from vanishing into the shadows.

“Oliver…what happened?”

He blinked once, then twice, and for a second she could see it all. All his pain, all his regret, the depths to which he wanted to have what he was denying himself.

Her heart hammered in her chest as her mind spun, leaping from one horrible thought to another, trying to figure out what had him so spooked.

“He said I’d already lost Thea. That I’d lost my mother, and my father and that—”

His words were slow, careful, eyes sliding off her face, becoming lost in a memory.

“He? Malcolm?” she asked confused because even though she did not agree with Oliver aligning himself with Merlyn she knew that as evil and deceitful as he was he couldn’t wield this sort of power over Oliver. “Is Thea okay? Did he hurt her?”

His head jerked up, turning to the right and for the first time she saw the bruising on his temple.

“No. Not Malcolm.” he answered, shifting forward to sit on the edge of the chair, unable to hide a wince, or the way he held his left arm as if he didn’t want to move it too much.

“Not Malcolm then who? And what happened to you there? I thought you were just training. Did Thea…” cold realization struck her and the rest of her sentence became lost, because she knew exactly who else had been on that island.

“Oh my god.”

Oliver’s eyes locked on to hers as she was assaulted with wave after wave of fear.

“Slade,” she somehow managed to choke out, “Did he escape? Is that how you got hurt?”

“He’s not going to touch you.”

It was the quiet, yet dangerous way he said it that quelled the panic rising inside her.

“He’s still there, back in the prison. He…he asked about you. I just had to….” both hands scraped hard across his face, “I just had to make sure you were okay.”

The knowledge that Slade had purposely mentioned her to Oliver made her stomach turn. With the blanket clenched in her fists she fought with herself, wanting nothing more than to erase the distance between the two of them. He needed the comfort she could give as much as she needed it herself.

But she couldn’t. She had to sit there, alone, growing colder as he built more walls between them.

“I’m sorry for coming. For waking you. I just…”

He trailed off, exhaustion pinching his face. She tried to reply, to tell him it was okay, but her mouth was dry and the words wouldn’t come.

At her silence he stood, her chin lifting as he rose to see the dark dried blood that encompassed the entire shoulder and half the sleeve of his shirt.

“Your arm,” she protested weakly, knowing she should try to get up and help him, drag him into her bathroom and make sure the wound was cared for. But she couldn’t do it. It was too much. Too close. Too intimate. Caring for him when he’d been unconscious had been one thing, but there had been a reason she’d left when he’d started to wake up.

He gave the stain a dismissive look, “It’s fine.”

Now that he was up he seemed almost anxious to leave, making the fist behind her ribs twist even sharper.

He took a step towards her, hands clenched at his sides, “He’s not going to hurt you again, and neither is anyone else.”

She sucked in a sharp lungful of air because she could handle the hurt brought on by Slade, or Malcolm, or even Ra’s al Guhl. She’d been frightened before, and she knew there was a good chance she’d be frightened again.

Physical pain wasn’t her concern. But the pain around her heart as Oliver recognized he had been responsible for hurting her was sharp. The ache she felt was as much for him as it was for herself.

“I’m sorry,” his voice sounded like gravel, deeper than with the modulator. It took everything within her not to climb to her feet.

And then her mouth was opening and she was speaking and it was like someone else had taken over her body. “The first aid kit is under the counter in the bathroom. Go. I just need to put some coffee on.”

She’d surprised him. She’d surprised herself as well. His mouth was half open, brows drawn together in confusion, but she didn’t wait around to hear his protests.

With her back to the living room she didn’t see when he finally moved, but she was certain she heard the soft noise of the bathroom cabinet door shutting instead of her front door.

She took her time filling the reservoir and measuring the grounds. The quiet hiss of coffee streaming into the pot got her moving. She didn’t know why she’d told him to stay. She’d just argued with herself to not help him. But try as she might there was no possible way she’d leave him injured.

His eyes met hers in the mirror as she approached him from behind. The domestic feel wasn’t lost on either of them, forcing her to blink rapidly and look away so he didn’t see too much.

He’d removed the dark, dirty and stained henley, leaving him in a white t-shirt that was sweat stained, one sleeve stiff at the edge with dried blood but he didn’t seem as if he wanted to take it off and as her mouth went dry at being so close to hm once again she thought that was probably wise.

Whatever he’d been using to cover his wound had already been thrown away, but the tear into his flesh looked raw and angry although it was beginning to heal.

They were both silent as she cleaned the injury, doing her best to not make any more contact with him than was necessary, but she could feel the heat rippling off of him, knowing all it would take would be for her to lean a few inches forward and she’d be back in his arms.

She was glad she couldn’t speak just then, her throat felt tight, choked, the breaths she pulled in through her nose shallow. He lifted his arm as she wrapped the gauze around his bicep, completely failing at not noticing the way the muscles bulged and flexed.

A little over a month she would have tasted him there, and anywhere else she wanted. Now she did her best to not even let her fingertips brush his skin.

As soon as she was finished he stepped back, putting another foot between them. The flash of pain made her blink her eyes, chin dipping under the guise of putting the first aid kit back together.

His gruff voice made her jerk, almost dropping the plastic box as she knelt quickly to put it back under the counter. “You should try and go back to sleep,”

“I’m good. Besides I just made coffee.” she shrugged, lamely, hating how tense and off she felt around him now. This wasn’t normal. This wasn’t them.

Except it was. It was her new normal and she had to figure out how to make it work.

His hand lifted as if he was going to touch her shoulder or cheek, a stricken look crossing his face when he noticed, hand freezing in mid air before he pulled back and shoved both of them in his pockets. “I’ll see myself out.”

He was gone in an instant, and this time she heard the shutting of her front door.

The echo of it closing rattled off the empty cage of her ribs where her heart used to reside.


	13. Part 13-3x15/3x16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: A new DB update! I chose to combine 3x15 and 3x16 for this part. Most of the eps in the back half of the season run right into each other and it just makes more sense to keep certain story lines together as far as how DB is playing out. 
> 
> Yes, because 3x15 is one of the eps in this part, the Ray/Felicity relationship now comes into play. For anyone who thought I would drop that plot point or choose to forget it…I’m sorry. I’ve been writing this story from day one as everything that happens in canon stays. So it stays. I hope through this chapter I’ve been able to give a clearer picture of Felicity’s headspace during this time. 
> 
> Enjoy! And let me know what you think!

3x15-Nanda Parbat/3x16-The Offer

**  
  
  
**

_Oliver left._

__

_Again._

__

_And this time John went with him._

__

* * *

The panic had almost blinded her. Felicity somehow managed to keep it together until she left Verdant. Then she had a breakdown in her car.

The idea of losing Oliver again was too much, but she was almost becoming numb to it. How many times could he tell her no, they couldn’t be together. How many times could the universe tear another person she loved from her before she stopped trying to hold onto them.

But somehow the idea of losing _both_ Oliver and John...she couldn’t contemplate that sure hell.

She took the long way from the Glades to Palmer Technologies. And as each mile clicked by another stone joined the quickly growing fortress being constructed around her heart. The mortar holding the stones together mixed from every ignored protest, every training session with Merlyn, every refusal to acknowledge how very very wrong this all was.

It was the only way she knew how to go on. She had to disassociate. Make a clean break. Separate what they’d had from what was now before her. That new reality she was so desperately trying to construct.

At any moment she could get the call that the family she’d joined almost three years ago no longer existed and that was too much.

She hadn’t known what her limit was. Now she knew.

So she kept building. Kept making the walls higher and she hid her feelings behind the thickest part.

She could do friends. She could do partners. But anything beyond that she had to finally admit was over.

Loving Oliver was too hard.

* * *

She’d never intended on sleeping with Ray. It had just happened.

He’d been someone she could fix. Someone who was open. Someone who listened.

_Someone who listened._

Maybe she could save him.

One minute they’d been talking and then the next…

He’d taken her advice. He’d heard her concerns for his well being and did as she suggested even if there had been a little bit of bribery involved.

And she liked Ray. And he liked her.

She’d gone back home the next morning. Ray had been working in his lab, but he’d kissed her sweetly and thanked her enthusiastically though something made her think it wasn’t because of their night together.

There was no guilt. No niggling in the back of her consciousness over what she’d done because she and Oliver were firmly back in the friends category.

That was the only way they could go forward. That was the only way she knew how to make sense of anything.

If he even came back from Nanda Parbat for a second time, of course.

When John had texted her twenty four hours later to let her know they were both on their way home she refused to acknowledge the way her stomach had dropped. Or the way the knot behind her ribs had eased.

The next two days were a whirlwind.

Beginning her relationship with Ray, Oliver’s offer from Ra’s, not knowing if he planned on giving up everything to lead the League. The stress had left her sleepless and edgy but when Oliver had smiled--told her he’d listened to her, she felt that tiny spring of hope buried deep inside her heart that her Oliver was still there. The one who was her friend, the one she could tease, the one who actually took her advice.

_Friends_

It was the word that she kept repeating to herself.

When he’d shown up at her office, spotting her and Ray for the first time.

_Friends._

__

When he’s been so obviously upset by what she finally knew was the offer by Ra’s.

_Friends._

When he’d tortured himself, thinking he’d done no good for the city as the Arrow.

_Friends._

But when he’d returned from the fight at the precinct and told her she was right...her composure had slipped a little. The teasing returned to her voice, the slight flirtation that had always hummed beneath the surface with them reappeared. He’d been calmer, more at peace, an ease to him that she thought had vanished forever.

It was hard not to touch him when she told him she was happy because he was in her life. His eyes had sparked. A vitality to them she hadn’t seen in a long time.

That image stayed with her. Which is how she found herself back at the foundry after talking to Ray and asking if they could reschedule their dinner date.

Oliver had been coming in from the back entrance as she made her way down the stairs, bag of take out in one hand.

By the look of distracted worry on his face he thought he was alone, not looking her direction or even seeming to know she was there until her heel caught loudly on the edge of a step.

“Just me.” she said with a forced smile, holding up the bag in pretend surrender when he snapped to attention. “I thought you could use a meal and maybe a friendly ear?” she finished hopefully, descending the final few stairs while he paused by her desk.

He looked surprised at her offer, mouth opening as if he was about to decline when he nodded, “That would be...nice.”

If his words seemed a little tight and the tension in his shoulders hadn’t abated she pretended not to notice, making sure to snag a chair and drag it with her as she made her way to him.  

“I don’t know about you, but finding time to eat lately has been way more difficult than it should be.”

As she unpacked the bag she kept talking hoping something she might say would pull him from wherever he was trapped. But once everything was laid out and he still sat with his hands in his lap staring at one of her screens but not really seeing it she knew it hadn’t worked.

“Okay. What happened?”

A small ‘hmm’ left his throat as he blinked to force himself to focus on her.

“When I left here earlier you actually seemed like you were in a pretty good place, but now...not so much.”

“It’s--”

“Don’t tell me it’s nothing. I know you better than--” she stopped herself this time, swallowing hard and counting quickly to three in her head as she shook off the intimacy of her statement. “I know this has to do with Ra’s and his evil offer of doom. You seemed like you were okay telling him no.” A hint of doubt crept into her voice, and a hefty dose of fear.

He scrubbed a hand over his face, causing a chill ran down her spine.

“Ra’s...I was told that he doesn’t intend on taking my no for an answer.”

All the air seemed to sucked out of the room, and her lungs leaving her slightly lightheaded, staring at him, trying to process what he’d just said.

“What does that mean?” she asked unnecessarily. The words had trouble leaving her constricted throat and the food she’d gotten them was suddenly unappetizing. Her shaking hands pushed away the containers while Oliver’s heavy eyes bore into her.  

“It means the story has already been written. By Ra’s.”

“Then why did he let you leave?”

Oliver lifted one shoulder in a half shrug, “To let this play out. To prove to me that he was right. That the city would turn against me, that I would be left al--”

He cut himself off but she knew what he’d been about to say.

That he would be left alone.

A hysterical bubble of laughter threatened to work its way out of her chest.

That’s what she was so scared of as well.

“You’re not alone, Oliver. You never will be.”

His eyes flashed to hers, vulnerable and somehow hoping even though they’d done this dance only a few hours earlier with her reminding him that he was the reason they weren’t together.

_Friends._

It was a reminder they both needed just then. She couldn’t let herself think of how they’d been. What they’d shared. The things they’d both said. It wasn’t fair to either of them.

“Oliver no matter what has happened between us, or what...what may happen in the future we were friends first. Partners. Nothing can change that.”

He ducked his head, eyes bright with emotion she knew he didn’t want her to witness just then. “Thank you,” he replied throatily and she suddenly felt like she could eat again.

She gave his food a not so subtle nudge in his direction before picking up hers and thought a change of topic might be in order. “You know Digg’s wedding is barely a week away.”

He smiled at that as he took his food, giving it a small stir with the chopsticks before he had a bite, “I know, he asked me to be his best man while we were chained up in the League dungeon.”

“Oh, well...maybe you can leave that particular detail out of the toast.”

“I have to give a toast?” he looked genuinely surprised, noodles and vegetables spilling back into the box as he paused.

Felicity pressed the back of her hand to her mouth to stifle a laugh, “Yes. A toast, and you probably want to make sure you show up on time too. I mean, I know it’s been awhile since I was your EA but I’m guessing that particular trait of yours hasn’t really improved.”

He gave her a half exasperated look but nodded, “I’ll be there on time.”

They finished their meal is mostly companionable silence, but she was okay with that. They were friends. She could handle friendship with Oliver.

Everything else was trapped behind that wall.


	14. Part 14-3x17/3x18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So close to being back to the sexy times!! This is another combined ep chapter because as with the previous part all these episodes just ran one after the other. It was impossible to place this part either at the true end of 3x17 or 3x18 for obvious reasons, but I did find a spot to put a scene that I think works. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy, and please let me know what you think!

**Part 14: 3x17-Suicidal Tendencies/3x18-Public Enemy**

**  
  
  
  
**

Seeing Oliver handcuffed in the interrogation room wasn’t the thing that almost broke her. It was his voice. It was the desperation she heard. The sound of a man pushed into a corner and forced to do the one thing that he’d fought so hard to protect for so long. The sound of a man who didn’t think he had any other choice.

When he’d almost begged John to trust him, then asked the rest of them to follow him she felt her throat constrict, the backlog of tears she’d been forcing away all day threatening to spill over.

“Give us a minute, please.” she asked Digg and Roy without looking behind her, eyes locked on Oliver, his fingers clamped around her hand. Her gaze flicked down in surprise because she hadn’t even known she’d reached for him.

Once the door snicked shut she sank into the chair opposite him, never letting go. “Oliver...you know we... _I_ will follow you anywhere. But is this really the best idea? Turning yourself in? Giving it all up? How can you stop Ra’s if you’re locked in prison?”

His eyes shut tight, jaw working as he fought for the right words, “What else can I do!”

“I don’t know,” she admitted, “I don’t have a solution. Not now, but I…”

A wave of exhaustion washed through her, leaving her weak and lightheaded. Her free hand removed her glasses, pinching the bridge of her nose as she struggled to tramp down the emotions she had very little control over any more.

“You’re tired,” he said quietly, tone softer, the grip on her hand having changed. He was now the one holding on to her.

“It’s been a really long day,” she replied, as she put her glasses back in place. So much had happened in the past few days, and after spending almost twenty four hours in the hospital she hadn’t even had a chance to change her clothes.

His thumbs were making minute barely there circles on the back of her hand, so small she wondered if he even knew what he was doing, but it was sending little spirals of warmth moving through her, “I was scared earlier.”

Her head whipped up to find his eyes, stunned because she didn’t think she’d ever heard him say that before and she couldn’t imagine what could have scared him.

“I knew you were at that meeting at the Mayor’s office and at first…”

The pain swirling in his dark eyes was almost palpable. Any air that had been left in her lungs escaped in a violent exhale that had her leaning forward, pressing against the table as she clung to him, knuckles white with the force of her grip.

“Oh--I’m...I’m okay, Oliver.”

“I know. Because of Ray. But you were in danger because of _me_.” the last word was said with nothing but self hatred and guilt and it was almost enough to break her heart.

“Ra’s attacking the city and setting you up...that is not your fault! You cannot think that taking his offer is the right thing to do. There is not a world in which that is an option so stop acting like you had a choice! You didn’t! This happened to you, not because of you.”

“This is _my city_ and it sees me as a pariah now. How do I come back from that?”

“ _Lance_ is the one who sees you like that. Not everyone. You’ve gained them back before, made them believe in you. You can do that again. The good you’ve done here cannot be washed away with a few angry press conferences!”

He sighed, long and low, hands beginning to raise as he lowered his head. The soft brush of his hair against her knuckles made her bite her lip to keep quiet as they both took the moment. The feel of his forehead pressed into the back of her hand, the rough noise of his breath as he gave in to the hopelessness for just a second, the steady rhythm of her fingers stroking over the back of his head and down his neck as she gave in to her need to comfort him.

“I did what I did to keep you safe. To keep Thea safe. To protect this city and the people in it and…”

The doubt she’d heard the week before had returned, this time seemingly stronger than ever. “Oliver, you can’t do this to yourself!”

His head shot up, eyes glassy and wild with anger and frustration, “What was it for! I hurt you for nothing!”

Her heart was slamming into her ribs and that carefully constructed fortress she’d built around it now felt as brittle and thin as a bird’s egg.

Nothing could have stopped her from slipping her hand from his to cup his face. As her thumbs ran across his cheeks she forced him to meet her gaze, “You did what you thought was right. You did it because you--care.” she couldn’t bring herself to say love. The walls may be crumbling, but some things she still had to protect, though her mother’s words were screaming at her _‘You don’t love Ray because you’re in love with Oliver’_. She hadn’t denied it, because she knew it was the truth.

Before she could say anything else the door burst open, a smug, angry Lance strolling through with an exasperated Laurel trailing behind him.

“Really, Ms. Smoak? One boyfriend attempts to murder the other? What kind of sick game are you playing?”

Oliver pulled back from her but she only let her hands fall to his as she turned a glacial stare on Lance. “You know this is wrong! He’s being framed, and--”

“Felicity. Stop talking.” Laurel ordered, “Oliver’s bargained to keep you out of this but if you implicate yourself that can be thrown out.”  

Lance just gave a twisted smile, “I’m not sure I can arrange for adjacent cells, but I could see what I could do.”

Felicity set her jaw as her glare hardened, “I’m sure the police commissioner would be more than happy to hear about how _Captain_ Lance has been aiding and abetting a murderer for the better part of two years.”

The smile slid off Lance’s face, returning her glare with one of his own.

“You should know by now, I’m very thorough.” her threat was more than understood.

“Felicity…” Oliver’s soft warning was what finally made her drop the silent standoff she’d been having. “Please...just a little further.”

The room tilted as she stood and she was grateful she still had Oliver for support. He squeezed her hands tight, telling her everything she already knew without saying a word. “Be careful.” he implored, voice betraying how worried he was, “They’re still out there.”

“I will. You...you be careful too.”

Lance made a half disgusted, half irritated noise in the back of his throat that she ignored. Instead she forced herself to pull away from Oliver, his fingers holding on to hers until they couldn’t any longer.

She didn’t look at the Captain as she exited the room, didn’t let on that she could barely see in front of her because her eyes were so full of tears. Digg was waiting just outside the door, wrapping an arm around her waist as they walked out, and she let him guide her, Roy falling into step on her other side.

As soon as the cool night air hit their faces and the door to the precinct closed behind them Roy paused to give her and Digg a hard look.

“We need a plan.”

**  
  
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	15. 3x19-Broken Arrow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N:Wasn’t sure I was going to be able to find a spot for a scene in 3x19 but I did. Final chapter without any sexy times, so thank you for your patience :) 
> 
> Hope you enjoy and please let me know what you think!

**3x19-Broken Arrow**

Felicity's heart hadn't stopped pounding since she'd entered the basement to find Oliver crouched on the ground holding a broken arrow. That was not the time for the universe to beat her over the head with symbolism. But the sight of him surrounded by the destroyed remains of everything he'd fought so hard to keep secret in order to protect the city caused her gut to clench.

She didn't know how he was going to react to what they'd done. Keeping Roy's supposed death a secret had torn at her and she'd almost faltered when Oliver had run from Palmer Technologies hell bent on saving his protege. But she remembered why they were doing it; to protect Oliver. And Roy's soul needed the absolution which she understood, even if not having him in her life every day was going to hurt like hell.

"If everyone thinks you're dead, then what happens to Roy Harper?"

Oliver had asked the obvious question, the one she'd struggled with the most and she had to turn away as Roy explained the final part of his plan.

She'd known that Oliver would protest but there were no other options, and as Roy and Digg left to gather the last of Roy's things Oliver turned to stare at the empty case that once so proudly displayed his suit.

"I'm sorry." she said quietly as she approached, fingers tugging on the tie of her coat nervously awaiting his response.

"You...you did what you thought you had to do."

"I'm sorry you hurt though. I'm sorry that even for a second I made you believe you'd lost someone else."

His head dipped, the hard curve of his shoulders tight and tense beneath his jacket. "You'd think I'd get used to it, to the loss but-"

The breath caught in her throat at his words and the pain she could hear. In an instant she erased the final few feet that separated them, one hand spread across his back, the other tightly grabbing his arm. "No! You don't get used to it, you can't. That's what separates you, Oliver, that's what drives you. That's why you could never become the next Ra's al Ghul."

"We've lost him though, this wasn't supposed to happen."

"Roy's alive! We might not get to see him everyday, but we have not lost him, not how it counts and you've given him so much more. You saved his life! You taught him how to be a hero, just like you did with Ray tonight."

She felt him flinch under her touch and straighten until the hand on his back fell away and the other just barely made contact with his sleeve.

For a second they were right back out on that sidewalk just a few hours earlier, with him lost and her pleading for him to listen, to understand, because she'd almost blurted out that she loved him. The words had been right there, too easy to spill from her lips because they were the truth which was so much easier than what she'd been burying for the past few months. But she'd caught herself, she'd covered just in time. Not before the hope had erupted in his eyes though, so swift and bright it made her heart flip and she'd been so so close to saying it, everything in her screaming for her to just do it.

"I just...I don't know how to do this. I don't know how to not…" he looked around as if he didn't know what he was seeing, as if he couldn't quite comprehend everything that had happened.

"How to not be in control?" she finished sadly as he jerked away, stalking across the debris ridden floor. Glass and equipment crunched beneath his boots until he stilled in front of what had been her desk.

"Do you know how many times I've had to listen to my enemies threaten the life of ' _the blonde'_?" he bit out harshly, not looking at her, "But this was the first time I couldn't do anything about it." The grip he had on the edge of the table so hard his knuckles were white, his profile nothing but sharp lines as he screwed his eyes shut shaking his head roughly. "I was trapped, Felicity. You were in danger and...my hands were tied." he sounded raw and rough, reliving the moment.

Slowly she worked her way towards him, knowing she'd have to tread easily. "I knew it was you controlling the suit, Oliver. I knew you were there with me." he flinched again making her wince. She had to take a breath, swallow and start over. "I've been around long enough to recognize your fighting style. And I know you'd never leave me."

He spun so quick she had to blink to refocus her eyes, not realizing how close she'd gotten to him. She also hadn't realized one of her hands had lifted to lay loosely around her neck, gently rubbing the skin she knew would be bruised come morning.

"He hurt you."

Then his hand was covering hers, fingers tangling for a second before she felt his familiar touch, the hyper awareness that always came when he was so close flaring to life like gasoline being dumped on a bonfire.

She couldn't hide the way her breath caught or how her blood ran wildly in her veins and when his thumb brushed her pulse point she actually gasped.

Soft, careful touches, so light she shouldn't have been able to feel him except the connection they'd always had let her know where he was, even when her eyes fell shut and she swayed towards him like a magnet.

He brushed her hair out of the way, following the lines of her throat with just the tip of his finger, then a gentle sweep of his thumb. Then his palm flattened, curling around the nape of her neck, tugging her a half a step closer and if she had let herself she could have only tilted forward a few inches to lay against his chest.

Oliver blew out one long breath, a tremor going through him that she felt in her core. She could feel his stuttered exhales cross her temple, swallowing hard to try and ignore the coil of desire that was quickly building within her. She couldn't do this. Not now.

For a long minute they didn't move. Their only point of contact was his hand on her neck and the way their breaths mingled.

"I'm okay," she finally said, not daring to look up at him because she knew what he would see.

The fingers along her throat flexed, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw and then the cool air of the foundry rushed between them as he took two steps back and her eyes popped open.

Roy and Digg were back, Oliver turned away from her, arms crossed over his chest as he watched with hooded eyes while Roy slung a duffle bag over his shoulder.

Squaring her shoulders she headed for the stairs, hearing the rest of her team fall into silent step behind her. She'd do whatever was necessary to get them through this, to get Oliver through this.

When she reached the top she took one final look at the place she'd come to think of as home.

They were being torn apart from the inside out.

She just hoped that when it was over and the dust had settled there was still a foundation left they could rebuild on.


	16. 3x20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Very sorry for the delay. BUT we're back to the sexy times, even if that wasn't exactly the focus of this chapter. Just two more parts left and I'm very excited for the final chapter and wrapping up this series thats been in my brain since last September. :) Thanks so much for reading! Enjoy, and please let me know what you think.

It shouldn't have surprised her how quickly things could change. But Felicity knew for certain if she'd been told that within a span of twenty four hours Thea would be fighting for her life, Oliver would make an unthinkable deal with a demon, Ray would be her ex, and she'd end up naked and well loved in an opulent bedchamber in Nanda Parbat with Oliver at her side, she would have never believed it.

For weeks she'd been certain there was nothing that could make Oliver accept Ra's deal. That they would find some other way to counter the threat that Ra's posed. That there would never be a world where Oliver would consider giving up everything he was was to become what he hated.

And then his sister hovered between life and death.

And then Felicity knew.

She'd known as soon as she'd heard his voice on the phone telling her to get to the hospital. She'd known that everything was in motion and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

So she hadn't. Instead she'd decided she'd be by his side every step of the way. Never did she consider not going with him.

And if anything good could have ever come out of the horrible machinations that led them to that moment in Nanda Parbat it was that she and Oliver found their way back to each other. That aching knot in her chest that had been there since she'd tearfully told him she couldn't be a woman he loved had been released. Even though she knew this would all end badly, that she would be somehow expected to leave without him, there was something very right about what they'd done.

The connection between them that had been so stretched and strained over the past six months had been repaired. There was a symbiosis they shared that hadn't been there before, even the last time they'd been together before he went to Nanda Parbat to duel Ra's on the mountain top.

Which is why she could lay there, with his fingers lightly trailing over her hip and be truly content in the moment. She had to be. She couldn't think even an hour ahead because it would all be gone. So for right then all that existed was her and Oliver and the precious yet finite time that was available to them.

There was a sort of beauty in those last, limited minutes. Both of them knew there was no need for superfluous talk, no need to fill the quiet. Instead they let touch and feel and that way they had of talking without words do all the work for them.

He kept smiling at her, as if he couldn't stop himself and it only made her smile back with too many teeth, making her bite her lip to try and contain it until she realized she didn't want to. It might make things even more painful later, to allow themselves to be this open, this receptive, this vulnerable but she couldn't find it in herself to deny either of them even the smallest of pleasures just then.

"What are you thinking?" she asked quietly, "And it better not be anything sad or regretful."

He gave a small huffing laugh, shaking his head slowly, hand still following the lines of her ribs as she lay on her side facing him. "I love you."

His answer was simple and perfect and she knew he was probably trying to avoid thinking about all the horrible things to come just like she was.

"I love you too."

It only took a tilt of her chin to reach his lips, the kiss slow and sweet as she took her time.

"It's different than before."

"The kissing?" she asked with a small tilt of her head and a touch of amusement to her voice.

There was another smile, something she was certain she'd never get tired of seeing, "No. Us. Being together. We've...this wasn't the first time but-"

She silenced him with a kiss, "I know what you mean. It is different, it's...more somehow."

A strangely pensive look crossed his face, so quick she thought she'd imagined it, but she still pulled back slightly to look at him, "What?" just the pads of her fingers traced his temple.

Whatever was going through his mind just then was a struggle, something he wasn't sure he should say. "Oliver…" she prodded gently, fingers pausing as she put the slightest pressure along his jaw to encourage him to look at her.

With a sigh and a quick downwards flick of his eyes he breathed out one word, "Ray?"

A short pang struck her as she remembered the broken expression on Ray's face as he'd said what so many others had said before. She was truly sorry she'd hurt him, never had she wanted that. In her poor attempt to get past Oliver she'd only managed on temporarily ignoring the inevitable. She'd always regret that someone else got caught in their crossfire.

"Ray," she began carefully, "Ray is a good person. A good friend. But he knew that I couldn't give him any more than that, than friendship."

It had never occurred to Oliver to ask her if she'd called things off with Ray before they were together because he knew that was something she'd never do.

"How did he know?"

She shook her head at the almost little boy quality to his voice, "He knew because he saw what everyone has seen. What we saw. What we knew. Maybe what we've always known but had been too scared to admit?" one shoulder lifted in a little shrug as her eyes grew wet. It was getting harder and harder to pretend like everything was okay. Harder to forget what was awaiting them in a few short hours.

"Everyone?" Oliver asked with a leading drawl as he tugged her closer until they were chest to chest and she was very aware that his need for her hadn't abated.

She rolled her eyes and wiggled closer, grinning when she purposely lifted her hips into his and his jaw clenched in response. "Yes, Oliver. Everyone. Even your mother made a comment once."

One brow rose to his hairline in surprise, "Really?"

"Yup. I mean, she was trying to manipulate me by using my feelings for you, but...sorry, maybe that wasn't a good example." bringing up his mother just then probably hadn't been the best idea she'd ever had.

"What do you think they all saw?" he didn't seem haunted by her mention of Moira, hands still moving, purposely hitting all the spots that made her react, like the edge of her hip bone and the small of her back. The spots he knew by heart after so many months of being with her.

A short gasp left her throat as a spark of electricity zinged through her, "I think they saw this," without looking she pressed her palm into his, linking their fingers together, "I think they saw two people who needed each other."

He rolled them slowly until she was below him, hips falling open as he slid into her unexpectedly.

The breath caught in her throat, her back arching, tiny noises the only sound she was capable of making as Oliver filled her.

But he didn't move, pressing her into the mattress remaining completely still, their hands locked together up by her shoulder. "I do. I need you."

"I need you too," she managed to say as she desperately tried to keep her hips from rocking into his, from trying to find some sort of relief from the fire he'd stoked to life inside her once again.

Staring up at him, candlelight flickering across his features he'd never looked more beautiful to her. She wanted to remember that sight. Wanted to save the image for the painful nights she knew were coming. Tears sprang to her eyes, hot and quick and he saw them immediately.

"Don't. Don't think about it. Not yet. Just stay right here. With me." there was a desperation in his words she'd never heard before, and she could see in the strained lines of his face that he was just as close to the edge as she was.

"I'm never going to leave you." she choked out around the lump in her throat as he finally began to move.

It was in that moment, with his eyes locked on hers, palm to palm, fingers entwined, breaths mixing as he thrust into her that it all crashed around her and she knew she had to try and save him. It was crazy and reckless and potentially deadly, but imagining a life without him was something she'd already lived through once. She was certain she couldn't do it again.

He pushed her higher, her moans absorbed by the plush curtains instead of echoing off the stone walls, and when they fell over the edge together she knew what she had to do.

She was going to attempt to sneak Oliver out of Nanda Parbat right under the nose of Ra's al Ghul.

She didn't have a choice.


	17. 3x21-Al-Sahim

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This part…this part was a hell of a problem child. See, if Oliver had been drugged or brainwashed this wouldn’t have been an issue. There would have been this awesome, smangsty scene where he comes to her because he’s drawn to her and something inside him is compelling him to go to her but he doesn’t fully understand it and they have hot sex against a pillar in the broken up foundry. But no. No. I can’t have nice things. I have to be given a canon Oliver Queen who has this stupid plan of his and is a big fat faker. So guess what? That means no sexy times against a pillar, because horribly tortured, guilt ridden Oliver is not going to have sex with her if she doesn’t know everything. He’s just not going to do it, sorry.
> 
> So we get this scene for DB. An interstitial of sorts that I think bridges between 3x21 and the final two eps where Felicity is going back and forth between believing in Oliver and giving up hope. She’s understandably unable to give up on him, yet whats being presented to her is too much to ignore, and yet there’s enough of the ‘old’ Oliver there to make her still question it. The fact that she didn’t spend her days sitting in a corner with a bottle of booze and a straw is damn impressive. 
> 
> This is the penultimate chapter for the series. I can’t wait to give you the part for 3x23. I hope it’s an awesome bookend to the story. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading. Enjoy. And please let me know what you think!

3x21- Al-Sahim

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It hadn’t been hyperbole when Felicity had told Digg the only thing that allowed her to get out of bed for the past few weeks had been the thought that Oliver was still alive. But that had been the Oliver she’d known, the one she’d loved, not this brainwashed soldier that had returned to Starling with the cold eyes and a deadened expression.

That wasn’t her Oliver.

She didn’t exactly recall the drive from Thea’s loft to the foundry. The irony wasn’t lost on her that she’d just given the young woman a spark of hope for her own future with the man she loved while Felicity was being faced with the stark reality that she’d lost Oliver to a fate worse than death.

The hiss of the steam vents and faint drips of water she’d come to find comforting and part of the ambiance that made up their underground home now felt foreign and oppressive as she picked her way through the shadows to what had once been the hub of the operation.

A lone chair sat upright in the mess, Lance’s task force having done a thorough job of ensuring they wouldn’t be putting anything back to rights. What Ra’s had destroyed from the outside, Lance had come in to bat cleanup.

She didn’t know why she was there other than maybe it was the last place she had that gave her a connection to Oliver, but as she stared at the wreckage she realized it was a physical representation of everything important in her life and she broke.

The chair was somehow solid beneath her shaking frame as she collapsed onto it, sobs echoing off walls she couldn’t see through the tears and darkness.

She thought she’d cried all her tears when they believed Oliver had died, but this was different, somehow all the more worse because she could see him, feel him, be in his presence but everything that made him Oliver was gone, leaving nothing but a shell of the man she loved.

The sound of heavy booted footsteps cut through her grief making her head snap up in surprise and then fear. She thought it might be John coming to check on her, then the possibility that it was a cop placed by Lance to keep an eye on the place.

Never would she have guessed she’d see Oliver standing just on the edge of the shadows, League clothing allowing him to blend into the darkness until all she could see was his closely shorn head and eyes she barely recognized.

With a start she scrambled to find her feet, the chair pushing away from her in her haste to stand. The wheels scraped against the concrete, coming to a swift halt against a tipped over table where it rocked on it’s base so hard it almost crashed to the ground.

Oliver’s gaze never broke as he took two steps forward, arms held stiffly behind his back, the sight making her stomach roll because he looked so much like Ra’s just then.

Face still wet she held out one shaking hand, stumbling backwards, keeping the same amount of distance between them. “No! You don’t get to be _here_! Not here! Not where we made a home! You can’t take everything from me!”

The words tore from her, raw and sharp and she wished her voice hadn’t broken, wished she could have sounded stronger, but she was falling apart and she was incapable of hiding it.

He didn’t say a word, just stared at her, but a flicker of something flashed through his eyes, something akin to guilt and pain. Then he blinked and it was gone, but the hardness she’d seen was gone as well. The man who stood before her looked almost blank, and if she hadn’t caught the tight set of his jaw or the faint tremor that seemed to be going through him she would have turned around and left without looking back.

A tingle rolled up her spine as the voice in the back of her head that had been whispering to her since Oliver had set foot back in Starling began screaming. He’d taken Lyla, a trained agent who was more than capable of taking care of herself, not the baby. He’d allowed Felicity to not be searched, making it possible to smuggle in the guns. He hadn’t plunged his sword into John’s chest when he’d had the chance. All of those examples spoke to someone who wasn’t completely gone. And she’d been fighting with herself for days trying to make sense of it. All the while trying to ignore the tiny bit of hope that told her it wasn’t all lost.

“The only reason I was able to leave you there was because I knew you were still alive. But this, this is not living! Nyssa said they brainwashed you and I _swore_ you were too strong for that. That _my_ Oliver could withstand anything!” Tears were dripping off her chin again, but she continued on, unaware that with each sentence she was taking a step towards him, “And then you left the baby all alone! You betrayed John! You took his _wife!_ How could you, Oliver. How could you do that to him?!”

The pulse thrumming wildly in her neck had to be visible to him, especially since she now stood only a couple feet away. His arms had fallen down to his sides, hands fisted so tightly a quick glance down showed his knuckles turning white.

A rush of anger fueled her, emboldened by getting a reaction from him-any reaction- because she had thought him beyond that.

“I didn’t want to believe it! I told them they were wrong! I was the only one who still believed in you and somehow I still do.” she cut herself off with a harsh, humorless laugh, “Maybe I’m a fool, but you proved me right. I knew if I resisted being searched you wouldn’t let him do it, that you wouldn’t let him touch me. I knew that there was still a part of you that loved me even if you didn’t know--”

His mouth was sealed over hers, hands having flashed out to yank her into his chest as he all but devoured her. The air forced from her as she collided with him, unable to even react to his actions.

It was rough, and desperate and so achingly familiar she let herself go. She melted into him, all her curves and softness molding to the hard planes of the armor he wore. He held her so tight her lungs felt compressed but she didn’t care because in that moment she forgot everything that had happened. All that mattered was that he was with her.

As his tongue stroked hers she clung to his upper arms, fingers digging into the heavy fabric, head spinning, light headed from not only his kisses but also from her inability to process what he had done. She couldn’t allow herself to question anything. She’d missed this, missed him too much.

Almost frantically she began searching for the closures to the League gear he wore, and when he sucked her lower lip into his mouth all rational thought fled from her mind. Their connection was still there. She could feel it and she knew he could too, knew it was what was allowing him to break through whatever the League had done to him.

Moving just as desperately as she was she felt him shoving her coat off her shoulders, feeling it hit the back of her legs as it pooled on the dirty floor. She’d somehow managed to get the strap holding his quiver undone just as his gloved hands slid into her hair, pulling out half her ponytail while he relentlessly worked his mouth over hers.

It was the clatter of arrows spilling to the floor combined with her moaning his name as his lips moved down her throat that made him freeze and release her, stepping back until there was space between them once more.

Felicity looked on in confusion and shock, but mostly in pain as the desire that had just been running through her veins was doused in an instant.

“We...I can’t,” he said roughly, eyes nearly black, chest still moving rapidly with each breath.

Somehow though he’d been able to beat the drugs, to do what she knew he was capable of. That was her Oliver kissing her, she was certain of it. The hope she felt warmed her, chasing away the darkness she’d been feeling for weeks.

She almost tripped as she reached towards him, “Oliver I know you’re in there. I saw it. I _felt_ it! Don’t stop fighting, not now!” Just as her hand landed on his arm he jerked away from her, a stab like a dagger going through her heart, “Oliver, don’t do this! You can stay here with me, we’ll figure something out, I know my plan didn’t work last time but I can come up with something better, something--”

He shook his head tightly, looking away for a long moment and when he was once again looking her direction her Oliver was gone. In his place was the cold, detached warrior who now occupied his life.

“No,” the gasp could barely be heard, her throat thick and choked with tears, the impassive look he gave her more hurtful than anything she could have ever imagined.

“Oliver…”

“Oliver Queen is--”

The world spun for a second, her vision narrowing to him, always and only him because she couldn’t hear those words. She couldn’t hear him announce his own death.

Except the final word never came. There was only silence in it’s place.

She didn’t blink as he held her gaze, there was a brief flash where she swore she saw regret cross his features and then like a ghost he faded into the shadows until she wasn’t sure if she was seeing him or just a mirage.

A single lowering of her lids and she was alone, the gasping sob that tore from chest doubling her over.

More confused than ever she carefully gathered her damp coat, fingers brushing her bruised lips to remind herself that he had been there and for a fleeting instant they’d been together.

This time she didn’t have to turn the lights off as she left. Instead she numbly turned her back on the last three years of her life, unsure of how she could be expected to go forward.

The prickle on the back of her neck let her know Oliver was still there. It followed her home, and when she slowly approached her front door she paused, key in the lock waiting to see if he’d come forward again.

But he remained hidden, his actions only further confusing her, leaving her questioning everything that had happened.

Long hours stretched before her as she sat curled into the corner of her couch, eyes locked on the front door, part of her hoping it stayed firmly closed, the other part of her wishing he’d suddenly appear before her like he had so many times before.

The sleepless nights caught up with her as she finally succumbed near sunrise.

Her resolve was strengthened when she woke in her own bed, covers pulled tight around her shoulders.

Somehow he was fighting it. Somehow her Oliver was still there.

Until she was proven otherwise she’d do her best to hold onto that. The conversation she’d had with Thea echoed in her mind- she still loved him, she didn’t know how not to.

**  
**  



	18. 3x23-My Name is Oliver Queen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This is it, folks. Final chapter to this season long expedition I went on. It was different for me and became very challenging especially after the mid-season finale but I’m grateful for how the parameters I’d set for the story pushed me as a writer. Thanks to everyone who has hung in there from the beginning and if you were waiting for me to put the ‘complete’ stamp on it-have fun!
> 
> As always, massive thanks to hopedreamlovepray for being there since the beginning when I sent her a text saying I had this crazy idea for a fic where Oliver and Felicity have angry sex after each ep but canon events continue like nothing had changed. :) It obviously became something more than that and I’m very glad I had the chance to explore Felicity’s pov this season. 
> 
> Enjoy. I hope when read as a whole this a cohesive, complete story. I’d love, love, love to know what you think!

**3x23-My Name is Oliver Queen**

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Although the green light above her stove read 2:47 am Felicity felt awake, wired, alive. Energy flowed through her body in little hums that left her delightfully aware. It was as if she’d been shrouded in a fog so thick she didn’t remember what it was like to breathe clean air, and a hurricane had blown through leaving nothing but sunshine behind.  

It had taken her and Oliver several attempts to part ways at Palmer Tech. Ultimately Thea had rolled her eyes and physically dragged him away by the sleeve. Felicity finished up a few last minute things she thought they might need while they were gone, including typing up her official resignation all the while catching herself smiling madly at the mere thought of what she was about to do. The memory of him asking her to go away with him was enough to stop her in her tracks just from pure happiness.

The drive to her place was a blur, and luckily quick at that time of the night. She remembered none of it, just the feeling of complete rightness in what they were doing.

Once inside she’d flipped on lights as if it weren’t several hours after midnight, making her way towards the kitchen not knowing if she wanted coffee or wine or if Oliver would want to eat once he arrived. A flush filled her cheeks, hoping the only thing he wanted was her.

Her feet were the only parts of her that seemed to be protesting the marathon she’d just lived through, a painful reminder that the past few days hadn’t been the easiest. With a groan she slipped off the heeled boots she wore, reveling in the relief as she curled her socked feet into the cool tile of her kitchen floor.

The black leather was heavily stained.  A matrix of sandy dusty residue from Nanda Parbat, even a few smeared drops of what she had to assume was blood though she didn’t know whose. She barely gave them a second glance as she padded into her bedroom, dumping them in the back of her closet to clean at a later date. She didn’t plan on taking ‘work boots’ with her, wherever they were going.

A glance around the racks of clothes made the idea of packing daunting. She didn’t know how long they’d be gone, or what she should take which normally would be making her worried. Then she shrugged and pulled out a suitcase. She was running off with Oliver Queen. She’d just quit her job. She was running into her future. What clothes she took didn’t matter.

A happy hum spilled past her lips as she moved around her room, flitting from one thing to the other, unable to focus long enough to complete a task fully. All she could think about was Oliver. The way he’d smiled. The light in his eyes as he’d asked her to go with him. The acceptance he’d finally made with himself.

With her equally dirty grey jacket and black hoodie tossed over the back of a chair she made her way back into the kitchen, eyes flicking to the clock disappointed to see that somehow only ten minutes had passed. She knew he had to go back to Thea’s, say a proper goodbye, get his things together-and she couldn’t help count the minutes.

She’d taken the first sip of wine when she heard the knock, her heart immediately leaping to her throat, pulse thrumming wildly as she rushed for the door, only realizing when she got there how light her steps had been. She felt like a teenager, heart full of joy and life and when she opened it she saw Oliver on the other side, with a grin to match hers.

“Hey,” he said softly, in that same toe curling tone that she’d cursed him for before but now she welcomed.

“Hey,” she replied, stepping aside in silent welcome.

The hand not holding his bag slid easily around her waist as he entered, tugging her towards him as he brushed a kiss over her temple. Just that one simple touch made sparks erupt across her skin.

Her fingers found his waistband and then his belt loops using the leverage to pull him closer in, nails lightly teasing the skin she found just beneath the hem of his shirt. “I missed you.” she whispered, pushing up on her toes to press her lips to the underside of his jaw.

“I missed you too.” but his words were heavier than hers and she knew he wasn’t just referring to their short separation in the past hour.

A strong hand on her hip guided her further into the foyer, his foot reaching back to kick the door shut before he dropped the bag unceremoniously by her shoe rack and threw the deadbolt. “I wasn’t sure you’d still be up but I saw the lights and...thought I’d knock this time.”

“No more lurking in the shadows.” she said playfully but they both knew there was too much history of truth behind her words.

“No more.”

Now that he was here she found she couldn’t stop staring, and smiling, and waiting. A small clench in her gut made her set back on her heels, sinking down and away from him a few inches.

“What is it?” he asked immediately, reading her mood in an instant.

“Sorry I just...I feel like I need to keep pinching myself. To make sure this isn’t a dream or a drug induced fantasy or...I just…” she trailed off because her throat was growing tight and she didn’t want to do this, didn’t want to focus on the negative but it wasn’t possible. “It was unbearable, losing you twice. I can’t do it again.”

Every inch she’d retreated he encroached upon, grasping her by the elbows and lifting until she was back up on her toes, hands holding onto his waist to keep her balance. “It’s been a bad year. But it’s real. I promise.”

The knot in her middle eased at his earnest expression and she blew out a long breath, smile creeping across her face as he nodded his approval.

“If you need a reminder though…” and his lips descended upon hers, sweet at first, with barely any pressure but that didn’t last long. In an instant her arms were twining around his neck as he drew first her top lip into his mouth and then the bottom, teeth biting down making her groan.

“I might need lots of reminders. Lots and lots of reminders.” she mumbled against him making him laugh.

They parted briefly, making their way further into the apartment. A special thrill went through her when she saw him shrug off his jacket and toss it over the back of her couch with an easy familiarity.

“Are you hungry?” she asked, thumbing a gesture over her shoulder towards her kitchen though she wasn’t sure what she could offer him. However, the glint in his eye and the way his lips curled up around the edge made her stomach flip. “For food,” she clarified, “or maybe a drink? I’ve got wine or coffee or…” he was right in front of her again, so close she had to crane her neck back to look at him properly.

“Felicity, why do you keep offering me things?”

Swallowing had become difficult with him so near, the heat of his body seeping into her as her thoughts strayed to anything but making sure he had a solid meal. Licking her lips she stuttered out, “I’m just trying to be a good host.”

His gaze was penetrating as he stared down at her, “I don’t want you to be my host.”

It was practically a growl and she felt it all the way to her core, her thighs unconsciously rubbing together in an attempt to relieve the ache that had developed between her legs.

“But this is the first time you’re here as my…” the words choked off as she realized how true the statement was. This was the first time he’d knocked. The first time he hadn’t snuck in or been waiting by the door when she returned. This was something altogether new for them.

“As your what?” he asked, blue eyes swirling as he pulled her impossibly closer, the evidence of just how much he didn’t want to mess around with things like meals or drinks pressing hard into her belly.

“My Oliver,” she answered immediately with an almost shy smile.

He let out a breath that coasted over her forehead, “I think we both know that’s not true.”

She thought her heart might swell out of her chest, “You’re right. You’ve always been my Oliver.”

One hand cupped his jaw, nails dragging lightly through the stubble she found before trailing behind his ear to scratch the back of his head. Oliver leaned into her touch, eyes fluttering closed for a second, letting out a contented hum.

He smelled of fresh soap and she noticed the distinct lack of sweat and grime that had previously coated his skin, but most definitely still covered hers. “You showered,” she said accusingly, causing him to quirk a brow in interest at her tone.

“Yes,” he drew out, “When I ran by the loft and got my things.”

“Well that’s not fair. I’ve got at least three days worth of...I don’t even want to know on me.” she purposely didn’t mention the dusty dungeon floor she’d slept on or the multiple hours on the plane. “And that A.T.O.M suit was really hot and heavy, I’m sure I’ve got bruises in places--”

She was pulled tight to his chest, one hand slipping under her top to slide against her lower back, “Felicity, I can take another shower.”

“Oh, well, yes. We should do that then.” Her insides tingled as she remembered the last shower they had shared in Central City, the way she’d chased water drops down his body and how they’d ended up back in his bed wet and without bothering with towels.

His hot palm between her shoulder blades was distracting, and when his other hand worked it’s way to the closure of her pants the tightening in her belly was sharp making her gasp. She opened her mouth to speak but before she could Oliver cut her off with a bruising kiss, flicking open the button at her waist to slip a hand into her pants, palming her ass as he lifted her into his pelvis.

They both hissed at the contact his mouth moving to her jaw and then the long column of her neck. “The only thing you’d better be offering me is you.” he growled into her skin, already moving towards the hallway.

Clothes were lost along the way, her legs finding their way around his waist by the time they made it to the bathroom. He’d managed to remove everything except her bra when he sat her on the counter, eyes never leaving hers as he reached over to turn on the water.

Then her panties were gone, and two of his long fingers slipping through her wet folds had her throwing her head back with a moan.

"Need this," he gritted out through clenched teeth, "Need to see you, feel you."

The cords of his neck were taut and strained but when his thumb found her clit she shut her eyes and let it happen.

A bottle of hairspray and her curling iron hit the floor as her hand flailed for purchase on the slick countertop, hips bucking at his ministrations causing his free hand to lay across her belly to hold her still.

He already had her on the edge in all aspects of the word, the dark swirl low within her spiraling out as a hot flush crept up her chest and neck threatening to swamp over her at any moment.

One more finger slipped in, stretching her, hitting a spot that made her keen and with a final flick of his thumb she toppled over the side. Her cries echoed in the small room, swallowed by the noise of the water, but all she could hear was her ragged breaths mixed with Oliver’s as he pressed his forehead into hers.

For a few long moments they just leaned into each other, letting their frantic pulses subside, “I really need a shower now,” she quipped, lips moving lazily along his temple, jaw, down to his neck where she nipped the skin where the stubble ended.

Without a sound he scooped her up, pushing her still sensitive center into his lower abs, his heavy cock nudging her from below and all rational thought fell from her head until the sensation of hot water flowing over her hair and back brought her back to the present.

Her feet were lowered to the floor, hands gliding down Oliver’s chest as she found her balance. Her wish had come true. Everything she’d hoped for months ago when she’d refused to believe him dead had come true. He’d chosen a life, and chosen her. Carefully, almost reverently she let her hands explore his skin, relearning every mark and scar as she dropped small kisses wherever she could.

The sound of the shower turned into a dull roar as she circled behind him and laid eyes on his newest scar. The pink raised flesh still looked like it was healing, her fingers raising to trace its outline as Oliver went still beneath her touch.

“Oh my god, it’s...he…” she gasped as she looked closer, realizing it was a burn, a brand. He’d been branded and she knew who had been the one to do it.

Oliver was silent, letting her discover. She wondered if he’d even seen it. “It’s an arrow.”

At that he turned, capturing her hand in his, but instead of pain in his expression or shame she only saw concern directed at her. “Does it bother you? I can’t see it, so…”

His question rocked her and for a second she froze. Slowly the steady stream of water came back to her and the roar in her ears faded. Blinking wet eyes she looked up at him and smiled, “No. It doesn’t.”

He couldn’t hide his surprise, head pulling back a few inches leaving her directly in the hot spray.

“Oliver!” she sputtered, ducking to the right as he quickly moved back, his large frame once again keeping the water out of her face.

Felicity wiped her face, looking up to see him still waiting an explanation. “It doesn’t bother me. It’s your symbol. It’s not a curse or a bad omen or some sort of albatross for you to carry. It’s who you were. Who you might still be.” he opened his mouth in immediate protest but she simply laid two fingers over his lips and continued, “The Arrow is what brought us together. I will never look at it as a bad thing.”

As she spoke her hand slid back around until her palm could cover the burn, the other hand rested easily along his ribs, lightly stroking the scar she found there.

He ducked his head, careful to keep her out of the spray until their foreheads touched, “Thank you.”

There was an easy quiet between them as she washed. Oliver took his time, strong fingers more massaging her scalp then working in shampoo leaving her more relaxed then she’d been in months. When she squirted body wash onto a bright purple mesh sponge he stole it from her hand and made sure there wasn’t an inch of her that hadn’t been cleaned.

By the time he was finished her skin was flushed again, zaps and tingles of electricity flowing over her wherever he touched. With a bite of her lip she retrieved the sponge from him working it in soapy circles across the broad planes of his chest.

Her nails cut across his nipples, slowing to give them attention as she plucked and stroked back and forth, mesmerized by the twitching muscles he couldn’t stop from responding.

Lightening fast his hand caught her wrist halting her movement, “You have no idea what that does to me.”

His gaze was liquid fire as she looked up at him through spiky lashes, “I think I have a pretty good idea,” she said throatily, pushing her pelvis into his, feeling the long, hard length of his cock pressing so close to where she needed him.

In an instant the water was shut off and she was being set on the shower mat, bright yellow towel wrapped around her as Oliver did a thorough but hurried job of drying off the both of them.

“Kiss me,” she whispered, watching his eyes go even darker before his head was dipping to meet hers.

He didn’t just kiss her, he consumed her. Every kiss they’d ever shared combined into this one moment as his mouth plundered hers. A combination of need, possessiveness, and uncontrollable desire that left her breathless and unaware as he walked them into her bedroom.

When he lowered her to the bed this time there was no hesitation to join her. Her legs fell open in instant invitation, one broad hand stroking from her knee to the join of her hip, making her even more accessible to his constantly roving touch.

Their eyes met and there was no need to talk, nothing left to be said. They both knew this was the beginning of everything good that Oliver had been denying himself. This was their future. The first step into the unknown they’d face together, side by side.

She hissed through her teeth, arching onto her shoulders when he slid a single finger into her still sensitive core. She almost came undone when he caught one turgid nipple between his teeth, not allowing her to come down, back frozen in a bow as one strong hand slipped behind her to help hold her up.

He sucked the stiff peak to the roof of his mouth, trapping it there with his tongue, his assault on her making it hard to concentrate on anything else as she thrashed her head against the sheets.

His other hand was still busy between her thighs, wickedly working her clit, dragging her right to the edge before backing off to slip past hot, wet lips that were more than ready for his cock.

Her back finally came to rest on the bed again when his lips left her breast, trailing open mouthed kisses up her chest and neck, nipping, and sucking until he reached her mouth.

“I can’t wait any longer. It’s been too damn long since I’ve been inside you.”

A whimper of agreement left her throat as one hand slid over his abs to stroke him, reveling in the way she could see him almost lose control.

He growled her name, the fire in her belly being whipped into an inferno. Then he was grasping her thigh behind her knee to open her even further before he plunged into her in one thrust.

Her back bowed again, her fingers desperately trying to clutch his shoulders as he pounded inside her.

Their eyes locked, heartbeats and souls matching as everything they’d been through fell away, no longer holding any weight over them.

“I love you,” she repeated breathlessly, over and over again as Oliver’s intense stare seared her with promises she knew he’d never break.

He hauled her towards him, sitting back until they were chest to chest, his thrusts slowing but becoming even deeper. The new angle made her gasp in pleasure as each pass made her clit push deliciously into his pelvic bone.

Tingles of heat began to crawl up her neck, leaving her unable to do anything but cling to him, foreheads pressed tight as they climbed together.

He cried her name when he came and she followed immediately, hearing his strangled groan as her interior muscles tightened around him. Oliver’s buried his face in her neck, wrapping strong arms around her as if he never intended on letting her go.

She didn’t know how long long they stayed like that, still joined, every inch touching, Oliver still deep inside her as their breathing came back to normal.

Her eyes were begining to droop, her post orgasmal high leaving her loose and sleepy. She was only vaguely aware as he deposited her back on the bed, curling around her from behind, tucked so close into his chest there wasn’t any part of her that wasn’t covered.

She sighed happily, snuggling back against him as he stroked her hair, occasionally dropping a kiss onto her head.

“I love you, Felicity.” he murmured quietly.

The slow hazy edges of dawn were just beginning to creep into the room when they fell into an exhausted but happily sated sleep. Felicity curled even closer to his side, small grin lifting her the corners of her mouth as Oliver’s arms tightened around her even in his half conscious state. It wasn’t until well past noon when they awoke again hungry for more than just food.

Three hours later she found herself in the front seat of a silver Porsche as they sped away from Starling City. She didn’t turn around and Oliver’s eyes never met the rearview mirror until they went around the last bend that took the city from their view.

“You’re still not going to tell me where we’re going, are you?” she asked for what had to be at least the tenth time, although she was now mostly doing it to see the relaxed and slightly exasperated look on Oliver’s face.

His answer was to reach over to take her hand in his, thumb rubbing over her knuckles. “Does it really matter?”

Felicity brushed a wayward strand of hair behind her ear, canting her body towards his in the small seat. “No, it really doesn’t.”

They drove in silence for a few more minutes, his hand only leaving hers to shift gears before taking it back again.

As the miles zipped by she couldn’t help but reflect on where they’d been, the journey they’d had to take to end up where they were. All the tears, and pain, and meetings in the shadows had helped steer them into the light. She loved all the parts of him, the good and the bad. He was everything to her.

With a soft smile she turned to him and said the only thing she could say. “Hey Oliver, I’m happy too.”

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End file.
